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AUG. 1820 NOV. 1936 , 






TfinUdhy Xkivid WUiiton^ 




1820 . 


AKT«^fs> . RaelMdMi|Mir iDtjCaoiiit qui «M tmpeih^ le$ Frao- 

qui leur 

Par Mr 

JaeS^' Pettchet. 

au Conseil-General ih Hospices par 
%ti do acM SOsftthMi sur PEtat des Hopitaua et des 
HospiceBi) aiBsi qoe des seooum a dmmriie^ du ler 
Janvier 1804 au ler Janvier 1814* » 

4* Adbtniiiiatratioii des HopStaoXy Hoapite4s cms se* 
couas d domicile, enfans trouvcs, &c. au SI Mars* 

5* Rapport 64n6ral sur les Travaux du Conseil de 
fialubiitd pour 1819. 

6. M^moire ear le Cadastre et D4taii« Statistiques sur 
4e nomlnv et la disfalon dee taxes de la contribution 
ftoaeta, sur le revenu commun dea ProprJetaires 
da Biens WMdA en Prance, Ac. Far Mr }e Due de ^ 

7* Reflexions sur rOrganisation Municipale et sur les 
CtMiseils Generaux de Departemens et les Conseilai 
d^Arrondissemens. Par Mr Duvergier de Hauranne. 

8* Considerations sur la Politique ^ sur les Circon- 
stances actuelles. ^ 

9. Petit Catachisme i TUsage des Francois, Ac. Par 
Mr de Pradt - - »* - p. I 

II. Classifica/ione Delle Rocce sccondo i piu, Celebri Au« 

tori. Per servire alio studio della Geologia - 39> 

III. Plan for a Commutation of Tithes * • GI 

IV. Memoirs of the Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds; virith 
some Observations on his Talents and Character. 

By Joseph Farington, R. A. - ^ - 79 

V. Travels in Nubia* By the late John Lc^vis Burck* 

luudt * . - - - 109 

VI. Memoirs of RichSrd Lovell Edgeworth, Esq.— Begun 
by Himself, and coinduded by fais Daughter Maria 
Edgeworth • /- - - 191 

90M cm sietecsr wen et sur les mayem 
rcpyil pdur In deveidr* Per Mr Moniurr. 
f Stewtiquo fil4m«ncaitn dc la France, Ac* 


Abt* VII. The Jacobltri^^^lft^^cMr^i^cotlamH being the Songs, 

Airs, and Xegonds, of the Adherents to th^ 

House of Stuart. Collected and lllusOrated by 
James Hogg, Author of the Queen's Wake, 

Ac. &c- - - . - p, 148 

VIII. The Sketch Book. By Geoffrey Crayon, Gent. 160 

IX. Magnus Konongs Laga*Ba?tterg Gula-things-laug — 

Regis M«^i legum reformatotis leges Gulathing* 
enses, sive Jus Commune Korvegicum - 176 

X. 1. Endjrmion ; A Poetic Romance. BJ^tfS^Keats. 

2. Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St Agn<n^nd onier 

ePoems. By John Keats, Author of V4tou5,'iini5la^203^ 

XI. Essay on tlie Evils of Popular Ignorance. By John 

Foster - - • - ‘ *214 

Quarterly List of New Publications - 2.jJ 


AUGUST, 1820 . 


Aiff. 1/ Kecherches sttr les Causes qui out emjpecM les Fran^ 
^iis de dcvcnir libres et sur les Moyciis qui leur restent pour le 
dcvenir. Par Mr Mounier. 1792. 

2. Statistiquc lllementaire de la France^ Par Mr Jacques 
Peucjiet. 1805. 

3. Rapport fait au Conscil-Gencral des Hospices par tm de ses 
Mcmbres sur VEiat des llopitaux ct des Hosp?ces^ ainsi que des 
secours d domicile^ du I er Janvier 1S04? au ler Janvier 1814. 
Parisj 1816. 

4. Admmistration des Hopitaux^ Hospices civils secours d domi^ 
cilc^ enfans trouvh, ati 31 Marsy 1819. 

5. Rapport General sui' les Travaux du Conscil de SalubritS 
pour 1819. 

6. Mhnoirc sur le Cadastre et details Statisliques sur le 7iomhre 
ct la division des taxes de lu contribution foncicre^ sur le reve7nc 
cumniun des Proprictaires de Biens Fonds en France^ <5r. Par 
Mu LE Di^c DE Gaeta, Membrc de la Charabre des De- 
putes. 1818. 

7. Reflexions sur V Organisation Municipale et sur les Conseils 
Generaux dc Departemens et les Conseils d* yhrondissemens* 
Par Mu Duvergier de Hauranne, Depute dc la Seine 
Infcriciirc. 1818. 

S. Considerations sur la Politique et sur les Circonsianccs ac^ 
iyelles. 1820. 

9. h\dit CaUchisme d V Usage des Fra^i^ois, Par Mr de 

Pradt, Ancicn Archeveque de Malines. 1820. 

T^here is nothing so common as to mistake a knowlctlge of 
the recent events in a nation’s history for a knowledge of 
VOL. XXXIV. Nb. 67. A 

2 Fnfnce. f, Aug^ 

its true state and conditiyl# fea^^sca^cely be a greaj.-, 

er delusion. Where the events have been numerous and 

E dftant, it is generally extremely difficult to ascertain what 
as been their general result, even in what is called a poli^ 
tical point of view, or as to tlie parties and principles imme- 
diately concerned — so much and so variously do they modify 
and balance and neutralize each other — and so frequently do 
parties change their names, and qualify their principles in the 
alternations of success and defeat that occur in a protracted 
struggle. This, however, is a kind of equation for which, at 
all eventsj a diligent study of tlic history will furriishThe neces- 
sary terms — and to wdiich a reasonable approxima|f^ may ge- 
nerally be made by proper pains and prccautioffjNBiit,^^^2. 
thousand times more difficult, and in fact often iftnp^sfl^Jc^o 
. gatlier or infer from the modern annals of any countiy, what is 
tlie actual condition of its })eople, or even what are the changes 
which the events there recorded have wrought in its condition. 
The practical results of political innovations are often so difler- 
ent from what liad been contemplated, either by their advocates 
or opposers — the collateral inflects of all exclusive changes are 
generally so much greater than the direct, and the new interests 
that are silently generated from the contention of old ones so 
often of far more importance than those to which they have 
succeeded, that events which would have been of Ae greatest 
moment in the former state of things, become altogetlier insig- 
nificaiit in the jn esent, and men continue fighting and debating 
about measures which can no longer exert much influence on 
their fortunes. 

All these remarks, we think, are eminently applicable to the rc*- 
cent history and present situation of France. For the last t wcnr \ - 
five years, the world have been occupied almost oxelnsively willi 
the great events of which that couiUrv has been the theatre and 
the spring — and yet tliere are very few, we are persuaded, even 
among its own politielaiis, who are thoroughly aware either of 
the changes which these events have prod need on the bulk of 
the population, or of die effects which these changes must stiil 
have on the institutions which arc now on their trial. We have 
all heard of its K evolution— of its lung and unexampled suc- 
cesses in war — of its reverses — of ihc fate of its ambitious ruler — 
of restoration the first and restoration the second — of chiir*|ers 
—of chambers of deputies and chambers of peers — of niinistJies 
and parties and laws of t'Jeclion. But it has seldom been con- 
sidered of what elements those things w^ere compounded, or in 
what way the changes in the state of the nation rendered other 
changes indispensable or insignificant. Our travellers inclecd 



to resort to Paris in vast numbers, and go the usual 
round of sights and introductions: occasioiiaily take part with 
or with Bonapartists, with Bourbonists; 
but few hiive tfiought of inquiring what sort of thing the People 
of France actually is at this moment? — we do not mean the po- 
liticians of Paris only, but the thirty millions of souls which 
compose the population of the kingdom. We have lately taken 
sonic pains to inform ourselves upon this great question — and 
shall now lay before our readers the sum of the knowledge we 
liavc acijuircd. 

A Very^»KlM proportion of the French nation, composed of 
mci e c^utj^\ibourers, found themselves unexpectedly raised 
Tai>A of^Prnpriotors by the sale of national lands in small 
parcels at the beginning of the Revolution. A prodigious im* 
j>iilse was given to industry by this change of situation; and the 
love of properly it originally produced lias continued ever since 
to increase. The competition for the acquisition of land is 
such, that a farm in the neighbourhood of any village, if sold in 
small lots, is sure to bring a considerable advance of price. 
There are instances of sales at the rate of 80 or even 100 years’ 
purchase — the new proprietor depending for his subsistence in 
a great degree on the jiroducc of his personal labour and that of 
his family. , Children usually inherit equal shares of the pater- 
nal property; although the law allows the father to dispose of 
one-third il* he leaves onlyjtwo children, and one-fourth if he 
leaves a greater number, ^his is another and a constantly in- 
creasing principle of division of property, and with it of popu- 
lation, every fractional proprietor thinking he can marry upon 
Ills small patrimony. 

A change, no le^s important, has taken place in the condition 
of Artiricer>,: the Cothic system of corporate bodies of trades- 
men {Jurandrs rt MaVriscs) endowed with exclusive privileges, 
was abolished at the Revolution, as well as the regular course 
of a)>j)renliccship, companionship, &;c. Society has so far gain- 
ed, that natural abilities, and superior industry have freer scope^* 
and the skilful and the strong win the race easier than they 
would have done otherwise — at the same time that those of in- 
ferior capacity are sooner distanced. Some of the old regula- 
tions were tyrannical and absurd: lliey might have been a* 
mcillcd with evident benefit ; but it is not certain that the pub- 
lic ir the workmen themselves have gained upon the whole by 
tlu^ir indiscriminate abolition. 

Thjj^)ntinental system had given to French industry a mo- 
Bbpo^^which some of th6 great manufactories established under 
. A 2 


its protection did not survive: but Uie workmen attached to 
these establishments have most of them set up individually Itt 
the same line. It is a fact, that for every extensive establish- 
. ment relinquished for want of sufficient encouragement, nrAnjr 
small ones hjive started up, and a race of needy maiiufuctnrers 
has arisen, w^ho are reduced, by their want of capital, disper- 
sion, and limited market, to fall back in the scale of improve- 
ment, and do less work with more labour. Innumerable pa- 
tents are taken by individuals, classed under 48B distinct heads, 
a very great proportion of whom work harder for a less and 
more precarious reward, than mere journeymen, bring, as the 
French Statistical Tables express it, on the protb^Tbl^U of the 
useful arts. ^ 

All the establishments of Education, good and B'sd, wercoev 
stroyed during the Revolution : those which came in their place 
might be better in thec'ry, but they were neglected in practice : 
both primary schools and central schools remained in the most 
deplorable state, and but a very small portion of the lower peo- 
ple enjoyed the benefit of any teaching, before the Lancaster 
sc|ioo1s {rEnsetg?ieme?it mu1tiel\ of which we gave an account 
in a late Number, were introduced in France. The mass of 
the people have acquired some political experience ; but in other 
respects they must be as ignorant as the Ilevolulion found them. 
It is a well known fact, that for the last twenty yea;i, the Go- 
vernment has experienced the greatest difficulty in procuring in- 
dividuals fit to be Maires de Cominnitcs ; and these places are 
generally wretchedly filled. The difficulty of forming proper 
juries is also such, that a sense of shame alone prevents the in- 
stitution being given up at once in despair : — it certainly is not 

During Bonaparte’s long courre of victory, the Civil and Mili- 
tary departments, abroad as well as at home, opened such a 
vast field to the ambition r)f individuals, that all promising young 
men were brought up with a view to advancement in tlie con- 
quering branch of industry ; and none who felt any talent or 
spirit would consent to be farmers or in trade. The chances of 
war have taken back what they had given ; rendering the most 
able and active part of the nation mere supernumeraries, a bur- 
tli|^ to themselves and to society; and many of the suicides 
which take place at Paris, 30-to 35 a month, are occasioned by 
the disappointments experienced by this class of men, who,W- 
though forming but an inconsiderable fraction of the pco’Me, 
occasion, nevertheless, some uneasiness to those who wish Idr 
peace and tranquillity, at the same time that all who h^^fkan; 
Jiumanity must feel for their misfortunes, ^ ^ , 



curious view of the composition of the vast population of 
1^’ance is exhibited in the Duke of Gaeta’s Memoires sur le 
Cadastre^ 1818. His Tables present 10,4>149l21 taxable proper- 
ties, ^great and small, forming so many separate itan^ in the aa* 
counts {roles) of the direct tax on real estate tor 1815, as follows. 

7,897,110 properties, rated at 21 francs a year or un- 
der, producing 47,178,649 francs. 

(Average 6 fr. for each property.) 

704,871 Do. rated 21 to 30 fr. producing 17,632,083') 

699,637 Do. 31 to 50 fr. do. 27,229,518 l86,04J,08-^ 

594,04^jLY 51 to 100 fr. do. 41,181,488j 

• i (Average of these three diffbrent 

> ' J rates, 43 fr. for each prpperty.) 

4;^95937' iSo. 101 to 500 fr. do. 90,411,706 

(Average 196 t^ fr.) 

40,773 Do. 501 to 1000 fr. do. 27,653,016 

(Average fr.) 

17,745 Do. 1001 and above, do. 31,649,468 

(Average nSS^^fr.) 


10,414,121 sum tot. taxed proper- producing 282,935,928 fr. 

This statement does not give the number of proprietors^ many 
of them holding properties in several communes^ and being tax- 
ed in each. Mr de Gaeta, however, reckons that there are 
4,833,000 individual proprietors; but as many of these are 
heads of families estimated at 5 persons, he gives 14,479,830 as 
the amount of the class of proprietors : According to this view, 
very nearly one half of the population of France belongs to that 

More than three-fourths of these 4,833^000 proprietors, say— 
3,665,300 pa>, upon an average, 12-]^ francs yearly 
tax upon their property or properties, re- 
presenting a yearly income of 64 francs, or 
518. Sterling ; they are in fact day labour- 
ers, with a cottage and garden belonging to 
themselves - - - fr. 47,178,649 

928, (XK) pay, upon an average, 92^^ fr. representing 

a yearly income of 464 fr. or 17/. 11s. Ster- 
/ ling a year - _ - 

2K,636 pay, upon an average, 425 tV^ **epresent- 
• ing a yearly income of 2127 fr* or 85/. Ster- 

Jj80S',936 carried over. 




Carry over 223,633,444 



4;805,9d6 Brought over. Brought over 223>633,444 

18;848 pay, upon an average, 1468 fr, representing ^ . 

a yearly income of 7340 fr. or 293/. 11s. 

Sterling - . - . 27,653;016 

8,216 pay, upon an average, 3854 t^ fr. represent- 
ing a yearly income of 19,272 fr. or 771/- 
Sterling ... 31,649,468 

4,833,000 fr. 282,93,5,928 

The Agricultural class in France then consists, of — 

1.421.000 proprietors and tlicir families, living whoKy, %r mostly, 

on the net proceeds of land, with an^hc^^ne ^ <frqni 
two to twenty thousand francs u year 1 *^ 5 , each laniiiy, 
(80/. Sterling to 800/. a j^ear.) v 

13,059,000 proprietors and their families, of the class of peasants, 
living partly by their labour, with an income of from 
64 to 464 francs a year for each family. 

4.941.000 agricultural labourers, who are not proprietors. 

Therefore one half of the population of France is composed 
of proprietors great or small, and one-sixth of agricultural la- 
bourers; and altogether /tiY>M//Y/s are emplojred in agricultun?. 
In Great Britain, on the other hand, proprietors and farmers 
together (the latter with us may fairly be rated among proprie- 
tors, having a large capital vested in stock and improvements 
on land) do not appear to amount to more than 2,975,000 indi- 
viduals, and agricultural labourers to 2,654,142. Ahogellier 
not more than one-third of the British population (17,000,000) 
is concerned in agriculture. * 

* Colquhoun's Wealth and Power of the British Empire. Lon- 
don, 1814. p. 124. 

freeholders of the better sort in Great Britain 

and Ireland, and their families, 385,000) 

Lesser freeholders ditto 1 ,050,000 > 2,975,000 

Farmers ditto 1,540,000} 

Labourers, people employed in agriculture, 
mines and minerals - - 3,154,142) 

|3ii|pposing miners to be half a million — to dc- 2,654^42 





Carry over 


^The remaining third of the population of France is composed 
* • of — 

4,309,000 manufacturing and commercial labourers without 
s property; and 

5,^70,000 merchants, manufacturer^, or individuals living on 
tlie interest of their capital, tlie emoluments of 
liberal professions, public offices, &c. 

The remaining tveo-thirds of the population of Great Britain 
are composed as follows — 

5,163,3b9 labouring workmen, employed in trade and manu- 
^ , factures ; and 

6,203^^.'V3crchants and manufacturers, individuals living on 
. Abe interest of their capital, professions, public 
m. .^i^^office>, or in any other way not agricultural. 

/n order to render this comparison clearer, w^e shall reduce 
the respective numbers to fractional parts of the same denomi- 
nator (30.000). 


l.annca i Merchants, /»»- 

Projnrictors I ^fanufaciur~ dtviduals ir^.'ap 

I ProimetorsUn'ins partly A jdifpicvltural vw and on the interest 


firtnit on (he 

Ifi'ing partly^ 
or masthfy 



net pro^ 

bij Uu'ir in- 




• 5,250 



G. Britain &0 
Ireland j 

Ihefamilii'ii of proprietors niidiarii]. 
t^rs. — There are very i’ew labouring 

way not agri- 
( natural. 



The propoiiion of landed proprietors appears from this state- 
ment to be nearly three times greater in France, than with us ; 

Brought over 5,629,142 
Aquatic Inbourcrs in the merchants’ service, 
iislierii s, rivers, canals. 320, OCX), aiid miners 
taken from above, 5(X),000 ^ - 820,000 ) 

Arjisans and labourers in manufactories, and r 5,163,389 

f orks of all kinds - 4,343,389 ) 

Btliciining for all other classes, including ar- 

navy - - - - 6,207,469 




{mofk of the French proprietors are labourers likewise) ; 
the iHimber of agricultural labourers also is something greater 
in France. Upon the whole, there appears to be in England a • 
saving of about one half the labour bestowed upon landK in 
France; and thus, owing to a better system of husbandry, larg- 
er farms, and more pastures, we can imord a double proportion 
of our population for commercial and manufacturing labours, the 
liberal and the useful arts, and a Hlc of leisure and enjoyment: 
And yet, if we look to the result of this state of things Ji** the tw^o 
countries, for the last few years, we shall find no great reastm to 
boast. In France, a whole army of more than ^OOjOOO men was 
disbanded in 1816; the men originally raised by tl^|^blH;f*nption 
were most of them the sons of proprietors ; they 
directions, each of them taking the nearest road W . his jiativc^ 
cottage ; neither robberies nor assassinations took place, and tra- 
velling through all parts of the country remained perfectly saft\ 

A general failure of crops occurred immediately after this, and 
the scarcity amounted almost to a famine. In several depart- 
ments, this occasioned some trifling disturbances on market days ; 
but the peace of the country was never seriously endangered. 
All Europe, and even the United States of America, have since 
experienced unexampled commercial and manufacturing dis- 
tresses, and France has had her share; yet complaints were 
comparatively less there than anywhere else, and we have heard 
of no riots in that country. Taxes arc no doubt high — that on 
land is equal to above one fifth of the net produce, yet they are 
punctually paid. We annex here an official statement of the 
number of trials, condemnations and acquittals for the whole 
kingdom (a population of 29 millions), from 1813 to 1818 — 
with which a similar statement, for the same years, in England^ 
forms but a melancholy contrast. 



The people of France, without great proprietors ; without • 
corporations; with a mere sharfow', as we shall iininediatelySoe, 
of municipal administration; witli a very imperfect and ^iTonfined 
establishment of juries; * with aristocrats setting fortl^ 

* The courts of justice in France present, from the number of judges 
who sit together, something like the exterior of a jury, hut without 
any of its peculiar advantages, — that of mixing with the iniraui ability^ 
and rigour of law which governs the Bench, something the com- 
mon sense and common feelings of men, — making strict rule bend to 
unforeseen circumstances, and placing arbitrary power in transitory 
hands least likely to abuse it. ^ ^ > 

The judicial organization is as follows. ^ ... 

Jmtices of the Peace about 2700, appointed b\ the cSti :?rnnTf nt 
viar pleasure^ with a small salary. They try civil causes a 
certain amount, be^'ond which they act only as mediators between 
the parties, who cannot proceed at law before this preliiniiiary re- 
ference. Many compromises are eftected through their means. 
Trihunanx de premiere itistancCj composed of 1155 to JJhO courts, and 
3500 judges and assistant judges. An appeal lies from ail these 
to the Cours d" AvpeL 

Cours d AppeU or Cours Rot/alesy composed of twenty-seven courts, 
and about one thousand judges or assistant judges. 

Cour dc Ca^sation^ composed of 49 supreme judges — divided into 
three distinct chambers. 1. For criminal cases. 2. & 3. Admit or 
reject petitions for new trials in civil cases, on the ground of de- 
fects of form. 

Trihnnaux de Commerce^ composed of merchants serving without a 
salary, piei^eiitcd by the body of merchant^, and appointed by the 
Government; deciding in all commercial cases to a iimited amount, 
without appeal. 212 or 215 courts, of Jive judges each. 

Criminal Cases are classed as follows. 

1. Co7iirnvcniions. 2. Delits (Misdemeanors.) 3. Crmen, 

Justices o/ ihe Peace try cases of contraveuliou, and can indict five 
da\ s* imprisonment at most, and a line of fifteen francs. An ap- 
])eal lies to the Trihunaux Correct i* muds. 

Tribunnux Correct ion nrh, composed of judges of the Trihunaux de 
py\ mitre instance. They try nmdemeanors without a jury, and can 
inflict five years' imprisonment, and a fine of twelve thousand francs. 
An appeal lies to the Cours d' Appel, 

Cours d*Asst.\es^ composed of five judges (those of the Cours d' Appel), 
try crimes with a jury, and can indict capital punishment. 

CoMseilsde Gurne, They sit permanently in each o<‘ the twenty^ me. 
military divisions of the kingdom ; are composed of almut^^SGb 
judges, all military men. They try, without n jury, not 
cases only, but any crime committed by a military man ev&i ^ 



pretensions, but no aristocracy ; with an ecclesiastical establish* 
meif^hich commands but little reverence ; without any insti- 
^tut ion SUer than the present ccntuiy^, scarcely even excepting 
^iChy^ltyl which is now a thing wholly different from what it 
was wmerly, — presents an anomaly among nations. All politi- 
cal passions seem extinguished among the body of the people, 
except tljat for Equalily. This was proclaimed at the time they 
became pl>prietors. The restoration of high and low in socie- 
ty is coni|^cted, in their mind, with the restoration of national 
property, with tythes and seigneuiial piivileges. They could 
do extremely well without civil liberty; but equality they must 
liavc. habeas an'piis^ or I iws answering the same pur- 

pose, 5^ be "taken away or suspended without exciting nia- 
loi'tdl aiscbnt<2^**ts. They arc likewise unconcerned enough a- 
boiil^'fffh'lftJerty of the press, whatever journalists may say to 
the contrary, and would not be sorry to get rid of trial by 
jury ; But the very name of aristocrates is capable f)f excit- 
ing an insurrection at any time. In other respects, Ic peuple en 
France a domic sa demission — a witty but mortifying confession 
which one of the ables*t of the Ficncli rejoriners suifered to c- 
bcapc from his lips. 

From this slight outline, it is easy to see that the political 
machine among our neighbours is at this momemt of very si/nple 
conslnictioii, consisting of two unconnected and opposite pow- 
ers — the People, a promiscuous mass, in one scale — the King and 
Army in the otlicr. If the king be warlike, he whU have the 
army on his sitle, and soon find means of overruling the Legis- 
lalnVc — if he be lor a course of jrars weak or pacific, the Le- 
gish': I lire elected by the peuple must in the end establish some- 
thing very like a republic, of wdiich a soldat hciircux will in due 
time bec ome the master. There is in that, country no interme- 
diate body, able fo rally round the constitution when invaded 
by either of the opposed powers, and to resist the inroads ei- 
tlier of despotism or of anarchy. Moreover, there are no ma- 
terials to compose such a body. The old aristocracy has prun- 
ed itself signally unfit for a duty of this description. Its mark- 
ing character is an antipathy to all conslitutional establishments. 

gainst an individual not military ! An appeal lies to a Conseil de 
Vtva'/V/w, composed likewise of rnilitary men. 

A. This part of the Code is about to be amended. 

are in France altogether about a 600 judges, exclusive of 
jes of the peace ; — a prodigious judicial establishment, compared 
tly ^rfivelvc Judges in Engiuud, ten Masters in Chancery, and the 
\ ClMicelior. 




Under this point of view, it is a matter of regret, perhaps-^at ' 
the government of Bonaparte did not last some years iongcK 
He seemed to have felt the loneliness and consequent'^nse^ ’ 
rity of' his power, and tlie necessity of filling the immejse^and 
widening gulph between him and the promiscuous multitude, 
by some intermediate class which the nation could respect and 
confide in. He attempted, therefore, with great inefc-^stry and 
perseverance, to reconstruct an aristocracy. The materials pre- 
pared were his Senate, his Legion of Honour, his titfes of No- 
bility, his Mc^orahi but the transitory creation w'anted the 
breath of life — independence. The senate was no^ a substan- 
tial, but a nominal [ww’er — not an auxiliary, but a meV' servant 
of the Prince. As to the old noblesse, which through\i 
taken policy, or rather through a childish vanifrfjv^Bojjaparte 
was so anxious, during the latter part of his reign, to plaS& in 
his household and government, and which was not at all back- 
ward in accepting the favour, the ill-assortetl and base alliance 
could form no link between him and the people, and proved in- 
deed a material injuty^to his popularity. His natural sagacity 
would in all prot)abirity have taught him to correct the defects 
of these institutions, for the sake of his own power, or rather of 
his dynasty ; for although his own Sovereignty might be safe, 
enveloped as it was in the blaze of unrivalled glory, yet that 
of his posterity plainly required another base; and he could 
not but know a balanced constitution to be the only safe one. 
Europe in arms crushed in him the common enemy of their in- 
dependence ; but at the same time, perhaps, the only man who 
could arrest awhile the unsoufld ancf vicious tendency to perpe- 
tual political changes which haunts its repose, and afford time 
for something permanent to take root, some agglomeration of 
interests to be formed, some fortresses to bc^ built on the dc- 
bateable land of opinion, and check the sudden inroads of daring 
and restless innovation. 

The history of Bonaparte affords, no doubt, a useful lesson 
to conquerors ; but all princes might find in it something else 
to learn : for if his talents, his fame and his energy, could only 
silence for a while the spirit of civil libcjty, or, if they please, of 
audacious independence, which burst forth the moment he fell ; 

they, with their bare legitimacy, respectable and useful in prin- 
ciple as it undoubtedly is, cannot reasonably hope to overcome 
it effectually ; and must see the necessity of compounding on rea- 
sonable terms, and keeping the conditions of the treaty f aim - . 
fully, for their own sakes. . 

In order to form an opinion of the present state of 
yue haye thought expedient to compare some of the earliest 



some of the latest publications of the revoliitionaiy period of 
*ill-fated inhabitants have reached the thirty- first year, 
^itlmut^ing quite sure that it is the last. The first in date, M. 
book, publisshcd in 1792, ‘ 0/i the Cannes ^johich 

♦ posed^ 

he Establisk7ne7U of Public lAherty in Prance^ ’ is justly 
me best production of that distinguislied patriot, and 
J|e best tliat has yet appeared on the subject ; and the 

list is clo^l by the last week’s brochure of M. de Pradt, who ap- 
pears before the public in his usual character of political skir- 

French writers arc accused of going farther back than is 
strictly nCi^sarj’ for the occasioij, and giving to their readers 
the hisJr^ry of the first Oak, — apropos^ of a treatise on ship- 
buildi ng. inquiry into the nature of the aristocracies of 

Gre^^anS Rome, might perhaps be deemed out of place in 
a political pamphlet on the circonstances actuellcs de France: 
3 'et the question of an aristocracy or no aristocracy — what an 
aristocracy is, was, and ought to be — is so closely connected 
with the business of the day in France, that we find no fault 
with the historical learning of our author. 

An aristocracy of birth, of w^ealth, of talents, and personal 
respectability and influeiM^e,* exists under every form of govern- 
ment. It is very little to the purpose, therefore, to inquire 
whetiier an aristocracy suits certain abstract principles of liber- 
ty, since it is impossible to prevent its existence: And the only 
question is, whether it had not better be regulated than pro- 
scribed — whether it should not rather be rendered useful, than 
left to hover in secret enmity beyond the pale of the social insti- 
tutions. Montesquieu observes, that a sovereign aristocracy is 
distinguished by peculiar moderation ; a result less of the pa- 
ternal spirit w’hich is so often pretended, as of the fear of ex- 
posing a corporate power to the usurpation of ambitious indi- 
viduals, on the one hand, or the resentment of oppressed num- 
bers on the other. 

The feudal aristocracy of the middle ages, at all events, was 
the very reverse of a paternal one. Its relation to flic people 
was that of conquerors to the conquered, without ‘ any judge but 
God ’ between them. The former encamped on the land of the 
latter; lived upon them at discretion for nearly seven centuries; 

a ing a sort of loose and reluctant obedience to the old Ge- 
. L under whom they held their fee, or share of the conquer- 
ed ^nds. The fate, however, of this species of aristocracy was 
iiW^ie «ame in different parts of Europe. In England, the 
^^ij^gcttjd'ants of the conq^uered w'ckc admitted to a sort of alliance 
^wmrthe descendants ot the conquerors, for the purpose of re- 



sistlnir iho encroachmor\H of k'liijly pou'tT ; and a 
binat/ori (d’ ij)tert*sts placo, cdcct ol' which lu^ been 
ob^crv:}blc from tho d?iy^ oi‘ Kln<r John to onr own. 0 ^^' 

111 France, the de n^'ulants of the C'onqnemI a 

lo :^ while pas^sive s;hc( itors of tlie cjuarrcls of the co^iquerors 
among themselves; or in otl»er w’ords, of the Kin<rAvith his 
feudal nobles. Lou^^ le Gros granted, of his own Sstord, to 
the fenner, ceitiiiii liberties by >pecial charters, iff order to 
strenijlhen hinl.^elf. The allhmce^ there, was hetweeiVthc King 
BTid people, ag iiiisl l!;e nobles. Submissive as the latter pro- 
fessed to be to die will of tiie leonarcli, tlu»y wetje;, in general 
the very reverse. A vague notion of‘ equality pnwail?^! among 
them; — a noble was like unotlier noble, in his ow-n \'stinMh^ 
tioii ; and the King was but one of iherii. HeriTW-^ii^d^i the 
warmth of his heart, chij^e to call himself /e ;nr;?/;Vr Gr////?- 
liommc (Jr son B fjuumc ; and that other chivalrous king, Fran- 
cis I., used the vune expression. Their noblesse were na- 
turally ihspo’sed to i‘Ao tl'unn fn their word. We rnnvt hear 
M. dc Pradt on the snhjecf (p 1 la.) ‘ Depuis ce seigneur Dupiijet, 
qui de sa tour de Mouilun soutennit la guerre contre Louis le Gros, 
jusqu’au Due Eperuiin, )* s lo.s n’ont pas ce^su d'etre c'ombattus ou 
contraries par ce qui les eiivironnoit de*pltffe pres. La retraite d’lin 
seigneur duns ses terre-s e<;uivaloit d une declaration de guerre. Jusqu a 
la Fronde, les princes et les grands avoient leurs places fortes et leurs 
regimens ; les gouvi rneniens des provinces, les graudes charges 
f'toient aatant de proprieles d'od ils bravoient le niccontentcmont du 
prince. 11 failut Louis XIV. pour faire cesser ce desordre, &c. 
La puissance resultant autrefois de ia feodaiite a ete reiiiplacec dans 
le.s temps, modenies par les gnindes nchesses des courtisans et I’eta- 
blissemcnt royal fail a cliaque prince. Ln France on ne con(;oit pas 
plus un piincc sans une cour, que le Uoi lui nieme sans cet entourage 
de ia souverainete ; il n y a de difference que dans la quotite. Ccs 
attribi!.- de la ^oiiverainete sont propres aux princes, connne au Hoi 
lui-riieiiie, Its denominations de lours (»l!iciel^ sont les rneiiics que 
ceiles du semverain, Au lieu d'un Hoi il y en a plusieur.s ; de 
grandes dot^itions, des places eminentes tie ])uissans rnoyens d’infiu- 
ence forrnent I’apanage des homracs qui approchent du inonarque et 
des prit^ces, &c, Le regne dc rinfortu.'.e Louis XVI. fut un tissu 
de machinations de ce genre qui out bcxAueoiq) eontribu6 aux mal- 
lieurs dont il fut la vietinie, Ac. Tons les am res etats dc TEurope 
sont exempts de cefieau : il n est connu qu cn Fiance. En Autri^he, 
tn PiU'se, en Angleterro, en Hussic les princes n’ont aucune parti* 
cififtioM au gouvcTuemcmt : ils sont sujets comme les autres : oni ne^ 
voit pas autour d'eux des gardes particulieres, attribut exclusif JWTti* 
souverainete ; on n’apper^oit pas davuntage le cortege irdKcibn^ouj^ 
jes memes denominations que ceux de la coiironiie, &c. C'es raSes j 
de ponipe sont propres au midi dc f Europe; les couis y sontp ^l 



ffsla de tous les jours qui peut n etre pas fort amusant pour le prince, 

H element necessairc d'un peuple d'oisifs et de parasites. * 
the 17th century, all who could afford to follow 
le profession of arms at their own expense, were 
HhhommesM They formed the greatest part of the 
light be entitled to the immunities they enjoyed, as 
ion for their services; but, since the system of 
ies was introduced, all military service has been 
I suitable pay : And yet in France, till the time of 
the Revolution, the nobles enjoyed the monopoly of the army 
and nftvy; (even in 1 789, a lieutenant in a marching regiincrit had 
to prove hijrtiobility for four genei ations) ; and all places of any 
importa^i^e were understood to belong to them. The families 
de rob e (yery ^ inferior to tlie noblesse deeper) divided with tlie 
highe^cIasS of plebeians the judicial functions, which became 
almost hereditary among them. 

In time, the exigencies of the treasury suggested the expe- 
dient of selling a variety of trifling offices conferring nobility 
on the purchasers. The practice began under Charles IX. — 
l^ouis XIV. granted five hundred Ictlres de ?ioblesse in a sin- 
gle year (1696) — the price was in general about t\^o. thousand 
crowns ; — and Louis XV, continued the practice. Tlie ready 
money these sales produced was convenient for the moment : 
but the loss of revenue resulting from the exemption of taxes 
enjoyed by the new nobles, soon turned the scale the other 
way ; and rigorous inquiries w^ere instituted from time to time 
against those deemed faux nobles. A person of this exalted 
class turning farmer (on other people’s lands), or merchant, or 
seeking profit by any trade, lost his cast — l)ecame a plebeian 
or roturier, but might buy in again by what was called Icttrcs 
de rvliabiliialicm. A coin pend ions mode of making room lor 
new purcliaseis of nobility was adopted in the lust year of 
Louis Xl\'.’s reign, — all ennoblements by offices merely titular, 
obtained since the year 1689, being annulled by a royal edict 
of 1715, — regardlcis, it seems, of bona fide purchasers! The 
number of noble families in France, just before the Revolution, 
although much less than in the preceding century, was still se- 
venteen or eighteen thousand, including about 90,000 indivi- 
duals. Among these, the ancient iamilies did not reach two 
hunfo'ed, — but the number of pretenders to nobility was im- 
mon(e ; and as titles were very easily obtained, they were also 
very easily assumed ;’and France was overrun by needy adven- 

--nll^Rdturier is derived from a word of low latmity, ruptuanus — one 
^whol&eaks the earth, a labourer. . . 


turers, calling tb^selves Comtes or Marquis^ whose multitude 
and mode of life could not fail to bring nobility into c^ltempti. 
The well known joke of the celebrated Arlequin Ca? Jn €>wpfii 
its currency to the sarcastic justness of the reflection it 

* Quel dommage que Pere Adam n’ait pas song4 a acfecer une 

* charge de secretaire*du-Roi — nous serions tous nol^s ! ' 

It was in this w^ that nobility was first discredjjM. The 
throne had not suffered less in public opinion — ^the fSst half of 
Louis XV/s reign having been profligate beyond all^ormer ex- 
amples : But the people were not yet ripe for a revolution, which 
the virtues of his unfortunate successor, and the many valuable 
improvements in the Government made during hisVt^gn, could 
not arrest in its progress twenty years after. It seemed as if 
all tile powers of the State conspired their own r;ujin : ^for the 
magistrates, in a fit of ill liumour ivith the Court, appealed to 
the people, by declaring themselves incompetent to sanction 
taxes. The words Rtats Genermix were uttered for the first 
time within the walls of the Parlement of Paris, and gave un- 
doubtedly the signal of the Revolution. 

The King’s Judges, under the name of Parlement de Paris^ 
W’cre the assessors of the peers of France^ forming the King’s 
Council ; and they assumed by degrees the name of Caur des 
Pairsj even when the peers were not present. The King’s edicts 
were recorded in Parlement ; this had led to an usurpation of 
power on their part, ‘ or at least to an inconsistency, that of not 
recording when they thought proper, and defeating, in fact, 
the legislative power of the King ; although they admitted, in 
principle, that he was absolute , — sans d^endance et sanspartage. 
Any officer of the King, acting under a royal edict not record-^ 
ed, and therefore not known by the Court, was exposed to ri- 
gorous, and even capital punishment* The predecessors of 
Louis XVI. came more than once to their Parlement de Paris 
with a military retinue (Louis XIV. affected even to appear, 
on one of these occasions, booted and spurred, with a whip in 
his hand), to have their edicts recorded in their presence ; and 
the refractory m^istrates were sometimes imprisoned, exiled, 
or suspended. Their obstinacy prevailed generally whenever 
their own privileges were in question ; and Uiey rarely yielded, 
except when the interest of the people M’as concerned : Rebel- 
lions, during the minorities of Louis XIII. and Louis XIV., they 
ll^sed armies against the latter when a child, but w’ere perfectly 
c^dient to these monarclis in the zenith of their power. In 
short, the resistance of the Parlemens^ unconnected, irregular^ 
and partial as it was, had all the inconveniences of a democrgtia ' 


democratic dieck, without toy of ad^antaf^ee* Sadi# hofiiffi- 

■ ireraioo to arbitrary power, that even thk phaateyii 
latiofi was revered ; and when Louis XV« dimolvr 
nion soon compelled him to recal them. PiiUtioW 
ley were, it is but jtntice to aay, that no set rfltjima 
1 higher models of private and public virtues'^ 
sail be applied to mere fidetify to a party. The 
r administration of justice was ifUite Unimpeached, 
itirary in a great aegree. Judges in their own 
caobe, they found means of punishing those who ventured to 
question the legality of their pretensions. ^ 

From tliffs outline of the legislative and judidal departments, 
we may judge what the government Was in other respects. The 
finances Had always been a profound mystery, even to those 
who«^e!? officially bound to understand them ; and Europe 
Esxw^ With astonishment, two Ministers, successively at the head 
of that department, unable to determine between them whe- 
ther the deficiency m the public revenue was ten or eighty 
millions a year. Every province of France had its distinct 
privileges, and was administered by different and inconsist- 
ent laws. The fiscal despotism of the Ldendum clashed widi 
die patenial despotism ot the Varlemcm ; and the people were 
at toe merev of bodHu Lines of customhouses diviaed the inte- 
rior of the Kingdom, and made the circulation of tlie crops or 
manufa^urcs horn one province to another as difficult as if they 
had been foreign eouutiies ; while enormous differences of d\x^ 
ties tonpted unfortunate smugglers to violate absurd laws, for 
whidi they often forfeited their lives. 

The nobkise and clergy enjoyed certain exemptions fixuit 
taxes, and many personal pri\iiegcs ewMQr t)ne of which con- 
stitute not merely an indignity, but a ppsitive oppression, to 
the people at Uirgc^ ladivmual liberty was everywhere at the 
mercy of authority ; but the Iremeudcms power was used mildly 
against the upper ranks of society ; and the whole weight of 
abuses fell upon the lower elass : For iustmne, the poor of the 
capital were constantly watched by dul agents of the police $ 
and when their extreme poverty too apparent, although 

tliey might not be absolute Ip^^ara on the streets, they werd 
carried off in tlic dead of nights whole femilies at a time, from 
their wretched abodes In tlie Faubourg St Marceau, or St 
Antoine, and taken to certain receptacles of vice and wretch- 
edness, known by the name of dep^s de mefidtdii^ where pros- 
titutes and pickpockets, the sick and the tnsan^ infancy and 
Slid agej^ were huddled together without distinction, and* ofleii 
tw%pt off by malignant diseases. The whole labour of repair- 
^sgjg^xxxiV. NO. 67 D 

ing bigbmys ( mvees) fell upm Urn pleasantry, who used ibe^ 
Ae least* . 

We shall add to this melancholy catalogue some col-^ official rc^it published in 1816, 
p^ative state of the Pans Hospitals now and in forn^ times* 
The flotel Dieu, the olde^ probably, in Europe^ listed as 
early as the seventh oet^^ry, and was distingutshed^v the al- 
most incredible vices of its administratimi. It aj^eafS^hat for* 
inerly the tenants of tUs horrid abode were often ibil^ in a l^d, 
sometimes six, the allowance of room for each being only eight 
or nine inches; and there have been instances of one or two 
more being lo<^ed over the tester of the bed I The places of 
those who diea were instantly filled with new victims;— -the 
clothes of those brought in were thrown together i rito^ s com- 
mon store-room, to be returned to those who sur\Tv?&jsload* 
ad with the combined effluvia of the mass of dirt and corru|> 
tion ! The mortality, although vast, seems to have been less 
Aan might have been expected, (2 out of 9 yearly); but tins 
IS explained by the practice of receiving into the hospital many 
poor in good health, ami who, Uierf fore, did not die. A great 
£re, which liappened about tlie year 1770^ cleansed tl^ Augean 
stable^ and it never was so bad afterwards ; but the* great im- 
provement did not take place till within fiiiteen or twenty years; 
The sick are now placed single in a bed ; the space of air al- 
lowed for each is equal to 10 or 12 cubic toises of 6 feet, in- 
stead of or 2 they had formerly; the average mortality of 
all the hospitals is now 2 out of 15, including lying-in women, 
whose mortality is 1 out of 24, instead of 1 out of 14 as it was 
former^* . . 

With all this, had never been in so fair a w^aylto see 

the defects of its old institutions corrected, and civil liberty in- 
troduced with succe;6% as it was just before tlie Revolution.— A 
reform of criminal Jurisprudence had begun ; torture was abo- 
lu^ed; the adminis^ation of prisons and hospitals , was greatly 
improved ; prpvinciid administration^ the iiK>st henedcial, per- 
haps, of any improvenient in its consequences, had been tried ; 
servage of all kinds, and the corvee^ were at an end ; several of 
the grievances of tha Protestants bad been removed, and the 
eicercise of their reU^iop allowed* , The scandalous fortunes 
made W favourite Ministers, in forever reign^ were uqjcnown 
under I^uis X VL, and the general a^ect of the country was 
that of a progress both towards bappiot^s and freedom : 
the, restless impatience of reformers could brook no delay. A* 
cure without tneir specific,, and otherwise than by their handst 
was no cure to them ; and they foiipd associates in a vicious 



where »en of the iret reok took a pride in the ded^^imdoii of 
. felons on the ’aJteel). 8o<He^ wa» !|K> 

^ fec ted ^rbughout with thih profligacy, diagnised under dw ahair 
li^>|nyniae philosophy of the day. Thoie genenflyiiliDtw 
admtq^ course, of veiy many exceptions— >bQt that such wOM 
die greft ontlines appears undoubted We need, inde^, no 
either nwf than the peculiar atrod^ and extravagance of t^ 
revolud^that ensued ;~for the people, in ail civil comnuxions, 
show ^epselves the more feroci<n» in pn^rdon as they are 
less enlightened and more enslaved. 

It would have required an abler and firmer band than that of 
Louis XVI. to guide the helm in such a tempesn * 11 est aj^ 

* ft eux depensett M. Monuier says, qtfmec une am moitis biea- 
*fatsante\ un autre prince mtpeut-etre ttamile moyen di main^ 

* tend mn poavoir ' ’ This is not improbable, and it is a me> 
lancholy and humiliating consideration : Yet we think a greater 
share of sineerity, or at least of consistency and perseverance^ 
without leas soo^ess and virtue, might have extricated him 
more cflbctuauy from his difficulties, and with far greater glory. 
Profoundly corrupt as the French people were at that period, 
they were even then, as they are now, and have always been, 
peculiarly sUsceptibHi of a sudden impulse of generosity, and 
apt to be carried aiWy by any great and magnanimous exana* 
pie: Tlie measure or assembling the States- General in 1789, 
without arranging previously the mode of voting of the three 
orders of the State, and bringing inveterate enemies face to fne^ 
with arms in their hands, by way of settling their tjifiercnces, 
was in the highest d^ee imprudent and unwise; yet, even 
after diis mist^e and its immediate consequences, it the mo> 
naren had boldly and frankly come fotward in the National 
Assembly, big as it was wim the elements of mischief, with 
nearly such a charter in his hand as his brother d/d five-and* 
twenty years after — if he had proposed nearly such bases as 
those of our government, the extreme popnlarity of the mea- 
sure would have given him an ascendancy equal to the occa- 
sion, not only over the great mass of the people, but over the 
Nobility themselves, who must have Seen the necessity of sub- 
mitting to an exchange of theit frivolous honours and privi- 
leges, which were lost at any tate^ for any purpose of consti- 
tutional influence or legislative power ; as th^ submitted with- 
out a murmur, under Bonaparte, to tiie same sacrifices without 
any compensation. The monUrch, tbns armed, as he would have 
been, with the irresistible will of millions, would have found 
ktmself all at once stronger than the strongest of his royal aU- 



eestQl«^>>4trcng(» e?ea than tbe conqueror who aftervw;^ n* 
satped bistbroue. /" * 

Hame liiOMn that the elements of our conatituticm ^er^ted ia< 
Frame iKmnerly, and were imported thence into EnglaifH : ^.ilm 
piece history wm urged wm great force by the (Si&%e de 
Laumiiaais bmrre die ceeinng of the Etats Geiterm, and 
ahMse by M. Leliy de ToQendah and by Mr Montlairaar as an 
argameat ed kmiaem against ^e charge of irniowwon. Bat 
what are precedents under Cinnimstances whidly dis^ilarv md 
at a distance of seven cenniries ? 'Die tme reason for adojj^ng 
or reviyuig sndi a government was, fliat with it the King 
might stilt reign-^wimout it he could not. But the' nobles and 
clergy, althou}^ wiliing lo relinquish pecuniary privilege made 
a desperate stand for the right of voting par ordrr, onin other 

words, of deriding all questions two to one iquainst tue 
The committee ( bureau } in which Mmsieta-f now Louis A VIII., 
presided, bad been alone in the Assembly of thes^Notables fat 
the doulde representailion pf the Tiers Etat, making it equal to 
the two others. 

Nothing can show more strongly tbe advantage of governing 
with public opinion, l^piily represented in a legislative assess* 
bly, than tbe well known tact, tliat when Neckew (foclared in 
17 hl, that there was a yearly deficiency m ten mtUions in the 
revenue, which bis successor soon after stated at eighty, nei« 
ther of them could find any remedy, but in a surrender at dis* 
cretion of tbe old absolute monarchy: and yet tlic new repm- 
tentative n)onttrchy raised lately on its credit, and at a moment’s 
warning, a cajiital mure than equal to this great deficiency ; and 
this it was enabled to do during on invasion,— ^ust aft^ cme 
great revolution in the government, and with some apprriim- 
sbns of another, simply because the state of the finances had 
lieen laid oppu to pnltlic inspection, and it was known «Ui^ their 
administration would in future be the annual otHect.of Parlia- 
mentary inquiry. Taxes, far heaviw than were formerly deem* 
hd insuppoitalne, had been paid without diffieaity. Bemaparte 
has the merit of this discovesy: But the capacity of eredtl re- 
mained unknown ; and uothing Over appeared so inexplicable 
to him as the resources of oor own budj^ 

The nobles^ against whopi the Hevolation sras princiDally di- 
rected, fled wilhont an attempt to defend themselves, — abandon-' 
htg at once their station, propm’^yprivtlcges and country, which 
a timely compromise on moder^ terms might have savech 
Their greatest enemies were amo^ themiddling classes ; for the* 
Mrauring mnltitnde took no active part in the Ifcvolution, rife 
dbe divisions lictwecn ihc great and llio small proprietors, the fttH 



UesK imd the tien eGtfy hed made eti <ycning f iat Ul MtH to a. 
vade Monoe property) liberty and lif<^ ana lay soeie^lMMrtte 
^^anfeet— * Lepotamr democratiguet aays the axmdHIiNBf the 
« C^tjubaetioiK) reH^ seal maitredummig) de bataiUe, doAtfntts 

* aoeejbrear sar k cadaete des veineutt et dhpma, u Fca 'fmd 

* dfixprktet aittsi, Jus^d lean emirest* Thdr aninMMlt;^, 

alwaya directed mowlt mote inidhBt the pmlegee 
of tne NoMee than theprerogativeaof Ae Kinjg: and th^ shed 
th^ Jdoo^bf Loom XVI. fu* mtHfe oot of hotted to the aristo- 
cisacy th&t deserted him, than to the royalty which be adorned. 

A pcri<^ of anarch^ followed, under the JMreeloty, during 
which a dooUe oppo&idoii, the one Terrorist, the other Royalist, 
distracted, the country with dicir alternate successes and defeats. 
HiC author befere us compares the situation Ot' France at that 
lierida to that of Rome under the Trittmidrak«->-But the French 
Directors were neither Marius nor neither Pontpey nor 

Craseus :-^The heterogeneous institouons'tfver which they pre> 
rided bad no roots in ^esoil, and wereoverdtrown with easely 
the strong hand of a soldier, then hailed as a deliverer. When 
Bonaparte came to aower he found all ranks of pec^le con- 
ftHmded together promiscuous multitude, frightened, ruin- 
ed, and bleechng— mmiy of the name of Ub^y, anxious to be 
rescued frmn impendilUg anarchy and jacobittlm^ but still alive 
to militaty fd^^y » no man was so well able as hunsdf to mvc 
them what tiiey most desired, and preserve tiicui from i^t , 
they most dreaded : In his hands the araiy soon became the 
side aristocracy in France. 

Fifteen years of militaiy gloiy fteemed to have eratUcaled 
from tlie minth) of this volatile people all idea of civil libmiy. 
Scarcely an individud of the rising generation had beard the 
name ; factions were unknown nndnr Bonaparte : But the spdl 
of his power was no sOoner broken, than tne Uto{pan theories 
of 1789 were revived, tMi^cr wiUl the <^positc principles of 
the old mmareby. The ^^igeurs de rAssemblk Natmnale and 
the VoUtgeun de iJOds ^(fiaUtuze, * enroe out at the very samif 
time from tlieirrespdlBtiebhtding-plaoes^ and met togcilier in the 
presence* chamlier of Louis XVlIl.; while the discomlited par- 
ty of die gloirc miiifaint was ready to ddc witii whoever should 
mdd out the best hopes of preferment in the way oi‘ their trade. 

^ * Sbarj^shooiers of Leeds XIV.’s thee. A current joke, not pai- 
.tkulariy liberal nor buttiane perinps on tlie old royalists, who show- 
ed themselves at court soon after the RestordUon -alluding to their 
gadnaMed diess oadii^nn ftgunc. 

^But' ^ ra^me t^ceiveii ^ein ivitli coldness aid dMsdain ; 
the wim of the marshals were slighted at court ; the was 
reorgantied in a manner which left no hopes of adytinceniaat*' 
to an bnini^se masf^ of young officers reduced to hal^pa]^ ; in 
short, most of the militaiy^ ps^y> or Bonapartists, inliked ir- 
revocably under the bannei^s of the Liberals,-— whose constitu- 
twmal opinions tumished them wiUt artillery against^die* com- 
inon etmny, t 

Up to this time, ancient institutions all over Europe were^giv-- 
ing way gently and silently ; but the sudden restoration of ma- 
ny old governments suggested the possibility of making a suc- 
cessful stand. The friends of these ancient institutions assumed 

courage, and renewed the combat. — ^ I’Europe, ^ soys Mr de 
ftadt, ‘ est dans la position oil se trouva le monde payee?- a^^Jappa- 
rition du christianisitie. Avant de d6m§nager, le vieil Olynipe de- 
fendit ses autels taut qu^il put . . . Jupiter temna avec ce qui lui 
restait de foudres ; vMii friicas ; apres trois cents ans de combats, il 
&Jut ceder la place/ et de tout oe cortege de divinit^s fkntastiqu^ ; 
il ne reste rienque dans Homere et dans Virgile, qaedsms ie$ arts"et 
lea constellations. , De mi^me d T^poque de h reformation, une lutte 
jde cent ans fit disparaitre rancieti regime rdigieux, de tout fespaoe 
.qu*atteigmt la rigformation. 11 en est de m^meaujourd'hui t le monde 
aubit one nouvelle r^oitnation ; ceux qu’elle ftteint .se debattent 
centre elle. On oe cede pas ces places pour fien. D*un bqut de 
rEuro{^ i Pautre, toutes les andennes preeminences cherchent a $e 
rafPermir, et agissent dans un concert lForc6 et naturel : Carlsbad ap- 
puye Paris, et Paris Carlsbad. . ,JQ n*en faut savoir mauvais grfi i 
personne,— cela est dans la nature des choses. ’ 

It was a natural, but at the same time a very gross and faUl 
^stake in the party of the court, not unaptly called llUra 
rc^li^eSi to suppose that the restoration of the Royal family^ 
to which, so fur from contributing, , they hisd bp^ the greatest 
cbstacie; implied the restoration of thexnsdves. CJoibpietely 
the dupes of their feelings, they looked uj^ chatters afad repre- 
ieptative government as mere revbludpimry inventions, which 
Ugbt be tolerated for a wb3i^ but 'miii^t enciently be set aside 
in the end; and they did not doubt but ah opportunity would 
soon occur. They completely spoiled the two restorations. 
? La restoraftonde I8I4>, ' savs Mr de Piradt, ‘A/ une fete Europl^ 
fime. Taw/ dSluftrif m ne eentifb pm ^ ^ mal du fnth 

fnerU, et il itaU immense* Tonies Us expinranc^ avoieni itS d^hues g 
i^es se rattachoient au ckangmetU^ U piriok avec ltd I'idfe de it 
'^n ^tout cequi Uessoit g les guerres^ ks uoUnceSf Us conscriptions, 
diction des mets. MaUimreusement ta cotitre revdaium n'tmst 
4 icarUe uvee assez de soin. ’—And the ci-devant 





* sms son inspira^ parut^ fordmnawse des Ptods/^ms ft pdU 
* dts * xSmanches : on vit le teste. * 

, Thelfe Arere at first very few constitutionalists in The 

peopl^e gt large knew nothing and cared little about 
berty'; but the remotest hint of bringing into (}uehtion the 
of national property, or of the restoration of tytlics and seig^ 
neuriiil 4 ;ightsy alarmed them extremely; while their long habit 
of submission to an arbitrary administration made them loot; 
for security to particular men, and not to particular institu^ 
tions. The hatred of the first years of the Revolution against 
the nobles, which had been in a good measure forgotten un- 
der Bonaparte, was revived in ad its original, force die moment 
they avowed expectations of recovering their fi>rfcited estates 
anil prualeges; and tlie Royal family, whose return was un^ 
fortimatcly associated with these oiFeusive claims, sufiered from 
the popular feeling against those in whose company they were 
returning. The latter missed an oppiHiunity of compounding 
with the new prq)rietors. Such a transactiem would then, wa 
think, hare b^n very generally practicable, and would have 
extinguished for ever die irreconcilable claims of some thoa« 
sands of families against eight or ten millions of pew propria^ 
tors. These, we have every reason to believe, were in the first 
instance disposed to compromise ; but the disjpossessed royalists 
insist^] on die indefeasibility of their rights of property^ as they 
had done before on that of their feudal rights and privileges ; 
and few clf these compromises could be effect^. 

The King had given a charter to his people : The Liberals ca* 
villcd much at the word givm ; and late events have revived thif 
unpromising controversy. This charter however declared, a- 
T^oxig other things, that the Chamber of Deputies should be 

^ Th^ seat of the Reyecend Author against the cqunter-revolutioii 
misled ium a litde here. It is easy to show^ that the observation 
of Sunday M ctear gqin for,, the lifoquijng for, though allowed 
one day's rest in wh)^ is assuremy not Iqo much, the wages 

of the other six inu<|^ ne cessari ly be such aq tu afford them brm 
for the seventh. But^^ey get nq more when they work furry day; 
their wages being always groaq^ down to the smallest possible sum 
which can enable them fo subsist ; the jgain js theq exclusively their 
employers’, while the losii qf iii theirs yet it Is evident, that 
the allowance of one day's rest must be general ; no labourer can take 
it if his neighbours do not, for he would starye cogent reason 
>for Oovemment to interfore. As to the other ominous circumstance 
mention^ by Mr de I^dt, we^ Aall only observe that a ci-devani 
4Q^]^shop of the church of Rome impeaches his past or bis presell^ 
sfneerky, when he laughs at processions^ 

pencw^^c^ly by fifths; tbatibe elccjtors should be less 
than thlrt^r years of nge^ nor p$sy less than SOO francs o^irect 
taxes; wd tj^t the members elected should not thsa\ ^ 

foaty tit age, nor pay less than one thousand francs di^ 
red taxes. The details were left to a future law, which was 
passed lurcordingly in XBlft-l7. This law, made under the in? 
fluenco of the liberal party, and with the vjpw of strengthening 
it Against the royaIh4:s who had shown themselves in a very hos* 
life attitude in^ 1815, gave a paramount influence to tlic class 
of small proprietors, ineludhig most of the purclmscrs of na« 
Uonal domaini^ and to such traders in towns as bad pakl 800 
^ancs for their patent, and by confining the place'^of election 
to the chief town of the department, often at a great distance 
from the residence of the ct)uiitry electors, prevented the attend-^ 
ahee at the poll of the most moderate amongst themr* Three 
yearly elections * have already taken place under this law ; and 
^cb nas sensibly reduced the number of Roifalist^ in the Cham- 
ber, and added to tliat4(rf tile 

llie cautious and ^nciliating policy adopted by the King at 
his restoration, disconcerted and alarmed the Ultra rbyalists: — 
and, in their wisdom, they devised a secret police of the kingp 
dom, a sort of extra-government, under the auspices of persons 
pf the highest rank, which mcddle<l so unwarrantably with the 
measures of the ostensible goveriiinent, that public fonction- 
t^i^s sc^cely durst ob^ the latter wriihout the expre^ permis- 
sion of the former. Innumerable facts established bcypiid a 
doubt the existence of this iilegitimate imperimi in impm iOm 

The civil list of the Crown m France amounts to the enor-^ 
mous svM of tlilrty-lbiir millions of francs, nearly one half more 
that of Great Britain. A very considerable part is well 
known to be devoted to humane and charitable purposes, but 
enough remains, we suspect,, to secure the friendship of .most of 
the active politicians of the capital, if it was so applied; yet, by 
a perverse policy, of which however those who are afrmd of the 
power of the Crown should be the last to fxi^lain, these great 
ju^s have hitherto served only to .jup a deadly opposi- 

* One, especially, of these nommations ym intended as an insult. 
Xn this.countiy it would have been silen% resented, and allowed to 
|iecoi1 on those who had offered it. But our neighbours do not un- 
derstapd the silent expression of feelings r Wbemer they ex^t they 
muafibcplode, and make a noise; liousseau remarks somewhere thm. 
t^^^ansian dilettanti beat time with their bands ami feet at the 
that their musical sensibilitj^miay not be questioned. It a{)- 
|iears that they beat time in politics also, as diligeiitiy as 


the Government- Those who jillavea 
irregular gatne^ to whidi we have just ajbaed, 
d^iveft t&emselveft : They nieant^ by their oi)positidS^^^,5i^^ 
thai^ protection to the Throne, which they believe did 
how to prot^ itself; and the opinion, we must say, scctmj^ 
tified by the very fact of tlieir imprudciit and Criminnl 
feren<^ toeing tolerated for years- The fetal example, howev^* 
was tiot Tost on their Oppo?ionts ; and a sort of secret tribunal' 
was speedily organized at I^aris, composed of men who wCre in 
substance desirous of the establishment of a Rcpablic~iindcr a 
President as in America, — under a Directory, •^undcr an elective 
King,— utifler any thing, in short, or any botly, but the pre^t 
family ; against whom they seemed to have d^larcd 4 
mart. The Ibnnation oi‘ tliis jnnto, and the, alarm inspired by 
its boidiicss and activity, naturally threw the Government more 
into the scale of the Ultra royalists : and as the jicriod of dec-- 
tion approached, all its agents, high aiidlow, prefects, judgesj 
police-officers, gendarmerie^ might be seen most clumsily em- 
ployed in canvassing 1‘ur their masters, aiid influencing tlie elec- 
tors, m they believed. In favour of Oovmiment, but in fact 
most fatally iiquring its cause. 

Tha result having shown the weakness of this hdlneuce, the 
Govemmeitt made an nnsuccc^ssful attempt, at the beginning of 
the Sessibit 1818-19, to procure a less unfevourable law of dec- 
lions. This was renewed in the end of ,la^ year ; and a con- 
test, Unexampled for its violence, except, in the ctirly days of 
the Revolution, took plaCc between; two piwtics iiemtly e(|^uat 
in numbers, for the long period of eight months — boUi sides 
contemUng, not for power merely, but for existence. Durijig 
this arduous struggle, two or direc sets of ministers were ip-r 
pointed and deduced — a Prince of the Royal Family lost bis 
life by the dam^ei* of ,nn assassin, whose }K>liiical femn:uu)sm was 
no doubt hcipitened the violent controversies of tUe, day ; 
blood was shod ip the $tred^ of the capUnl for several successive 
days, and France app«M«d on^tbe eve of a new involution! 
The knowledge of important feefe, however, rose ot^ 

of tliis criticiiTsituatibh; U TIijU: the lower classes were imt 4%^ 
posed to take an active part In abstract political qui^ripzi^ or 
perhaps had not yet lost the habit of ofee4itaiSf^ tw^qui^ 

under their Imperial ruler; That Uie Govertt^ut \vas rather 
t^Uonger than had becn^Suppjosal, and could deppod in somede- 

f reeon tfacmUitmy,--^Coiisid^aU^^^^ orinfinitoweiglu inF rance^ 
Tiufer tfesc cii’cunxstanccs, a opniproiniY>e look place; by which 
|^^|djp{MitiGs arc to be added to ih^ prc;:>tuii uuiuber of 2SS. Those 
il^Will be elected (2 in each of Uie 86 departments) by 
Jbfttih jfart onij/ of tlu* present electors, taking only those who 



pay tlie b^faesl ta^s. ITjeoliicr 25S irill be elected, as h^eto 
fore, by these v^hd pav 300 fraiics and upwards; with this 
fereuce, tl^at the elections uill take place iu each arrbj^hsement^ 
instead of vibe departmental town. The law passed ultioxately 
by a great majority,-r-.J5i to 05; and has probably sedured, for 
the present, th^ peape of the country — we trust without ma* 
terltdly dlminisbiDgsita dhance for permanent freedom* There 
is reason, however, Vto fear, that the obstacles to the establish- 
inent of civil liberty in France lie deeper than any law of eleo- 
tions can reach~m the habits, manners, and prejudices of tbe 
'people and of their rulers ; and it is to ibis subject that we now 
wish particularly to direct the attention of our readers. 

The number of voting proprietors piiying 300 francs an<J upr 
wards of direct taxes, is not readily ascertained from tlie Duke 
of Gaetft’s Table, of whieli wc have already given lui^abikract ;; 
but an ofixcial estimate makes it 03,900 ; and another document 
divides that number aa ibllows— 

61.000 electors paymg from 300 to 600 (v* olrect taxea* 

32.000 do. from , 600 to 3oOO. 

621 do. from 3000 to 4000. 

232 < do. . 4000 and upwards, 

93,853 electors* 

Great proprietors arc astonishingly few in France, or rather 
the largest landed estates are very small; but such as they are^ 
the law now gives th^n a gr^t preponderance of political 
power.' 25 thousand of the greatest proprietors will elect ex-» 
ctie^ively about twiv-fifths of the members to the chamber of de» 
pnties and, jointly with the 70 thousand lesser iiroprif^ors, the 
other ihree^frfrhs, the former voting twice. At present about 
one proprietor out of 45 is an elector* This arrangement inicht 
be deemed sufBcIently aristocratic; and yet tbeprobaUfity is, that 
the elex^oris will still give a maibrity cf Mberul depultes. The 
><)fm}ificatkm to be el^^ie, fmyb^g lOuO fr. direct taxes 
and ^tmrds, restricts the xmwJber dt candidates from which 
depifcittea can be chosen to Tittie more Ihail eight thousand for 
the u^le nathmj; a propordon of whom are nobles (gen* 
yet tibe eJeC^s will fend no difficulty in sel^tbj^ 
among that snhdf number, 430 individunts, who, faroni principle 
or calculation^ will , adopt tibeir opinions ; and these opinions 
generally be /idera^republican wemight almost say*--from 
pm ctfcmnstanc^ among othem, that mostof the electors are not , 
qualified to be eitgible. In that point of )view, the rcstrlK^bn ox| 
eiigbility has in fact a hidden republican tendency. 

There is a disposition in men, of which they are not aluma 
conscious, to level all distinctions down to themselves,— -at 


sun^tlme that tliey w^ntain strictly those 
* venture to^predict* that those ineC^l^ electors 
lonffsattsfira; and that, sooner or later, a law will W 

their deputies to eiAble to elect themselves. It is 
probable, diat the great mass of proprsetors, the 44 out 
who pay less than SOO francs of direct taxes,' and who are. now 
m^.^Mctators of the election, will dissatisfied at those vkUo 
mgr SOO enjoying political rights frmh which they are debarred. 
The narrower die line drawn between them, the 'more they will 
f^l indined to pass it. The Constituent Assembly, in 1790, 
thought it.had guarded sufficiently against ah appeihance of 
aristocratic principle, by requiring only the payment of direct 
taxes to the amount of three days’ labour, to enable any body 
to be an elector; but the citoyetn passifi^ finding themselves 
most numerous, very soon made themselves actifs! The mol^ 
titude, especia% when the spirit of liberty is new, and political 
institutions bemr the stamp of antiquity, is tmt to find a pecu- 
liar charm m i^ublican institutions, and stilt more in democra- 
tic ones ; but such a system requires, to be at all safe, a popu- 
lation wholly composed of proprietors, as in die United Shates; 
and althou^ an unusuid proportion of the population of France 
belongs to that daft, yet most of these being very little above 
tbe condition of day-labourers, there is evetyreascnl to. think 
that the experiment of a lUnublic would end as it did befme, ia 
die usurpation of an able aemagogue, or a successful General. 
As soon as the great mass of a people, long subjected to an ar- 
bitrary monarchy, comes to have a taste of republican invita- 
tions, they are but too apt to go into all kinds of excesses to se- 
cure the inestimalde benefit of equal rights, and the send>laace 
at least of setf-government After all, however, tbe'advimtagea 
of republican government, under any modifications, seem toi^ 
very quesdonimle. £ven die most splendid of the antimit mo- 
dels, where libmiy was the ruling passion, exfailifc a mmistrons 
assembli^ of g^de nvumers in private life, and a crud policy 
for the public — putlly,.^nntere8tedness, filial piety, wtmdef^ 
imurnge and mishde^ Constancy in advmrsity; Jbut, on 
idl^test suspicion ofderignsi^amst liberty, or indeed in favosr 
of ihe liberty of the sobjecis or slaves of me republic, dm-sune 
virtuous pec^le became c^alde of the most dreadful dccessess 
proscriptions, murdmu, olvu wars, ^xdiatitms— midy by a sWai^ 
illusion, die perpetrators of these crimes fancied thiy weresetdx^ 
a pattern of heroic VirUie. It ought always to be rmnembereC 
too, that a perfect eqadfity oF;fHroperty is the necessary condl* 
ti^^ or consequence of a petiKt ecjuality of |Mditicai rights. 

universal suffrage is actually established, agroritt 

si * JFVanoft' A^ig. 

laws ihay be (OqpecScd to folio#; yH on equal division of die 
land would be ioi|j|^pssible in practice* if it were only freon die« 
smallness of the shares into #hicfa. it .would be split*: and firenn 
diis, as wdf as other caused die piopctty. of the soil wiUhtibU 
mately faU i^to the bands of a ' despotic administrator, *who 
tributes dt^^pioceeds amongst the needy nia]titud& A Des> 
pKA ii.&us Uie natural representative of the proietaireg,, who are 
(htt'SIwereign : And-.uo^ his rule property gives few enjoy- 
ni&itis, and subjects ^ pomossim’ to cores tmd dangers, while 
fldWrty is indcp^dence. No man then will build or plant far 
posterity ; agriculture will be neglected, and famines misue. In 

^ 11100 as pcpulatitm diminishes, the remaining* inhabitants 
: more dUHcult tb provide a scanty subdstcnce:, Sueij was 
the state of Italy in the worst times of Hume, when die North- 
ern barbai'ians fiually aciiievcd its conquest ;~and so it k in 
our own days at Algiers and Mmrocco. 

Notwithstanding all its vices, the Despotic fbftm of govern- 
ment has in it tlie dements not only of durabUi^, hut of pqiu- 
larity also; for it coincides, in many things, 'widi fhe iqi^iarent 
interest of die multitude, though certainly not widi dierr true 
interest, and favours their strongest prqfmnsitiesv The rabble 
of Ccmstantinople.know no superior betw|tepi; d>em and the Sul- 
tem or hk immediate vicegerents ; no intenkcdiate dess of pro- 
prietors, with political rights from which tliey are excluded ; 
neither a cemstituti^^ aristocracy, nor an aristocracy of birth, 
wealth, or talents. The whole population stands on a dead 
level, which the Despot alone overtops. From bis eminent but 
unst^Ic situation, be may streteh down his hand to any one in 
tile crqw'd, and raise him up to power at once; or die multitude 
mi^ lift n» theirs to him and pull him dowm to their feet. 
Taxes Hurmr a despotic government are sparingly laid — ^this k 
<me of its charactcrisUcs : Nations, it seems, can mily yield a 
certain . quanltim of money and of obedience to sadi a govem- 
m^t ; and when it wants more of the one, it must be content- 
ed with less of the other. It is the hard, necessary and not 
inglorious fate of prindple, in a wdl regulated 
monarchy, tS check merely, and conttd rmber than direct, the 
m^oros of the Government. . If it governed habitually, it srould 
aa..^rtainly db^gC the monai-cby into a r^ubiie, as the direct 
iwueiice oS iStm j»:^lairrs would charme.a republic as well as a 
m^ereby into a. wild democracy, !^ww it., appears tp ns that 
^ republican jiriiiciplc predominates *¥ipx«eeut. in the French ^ 
miphi^chy; ..and. die transition friun a republic to an. arbitrary * 
government k easier there than any whm« else, from the mititary 
|hts of the.|iation'->and bci^use their present love ibr 

1990. France. 29 

I is xK>t accompanied with an equal i^tziolimcnt to, or fisted 
priacibles o£ civile liberijf. ^ „ - 

A aistinguished orator on the liberal side (Geite^ j^W% 

. ntadis lately in the Chamber of Deputies the following 
and q^iritcd declaration of what the nation, does not like, 
what it likes. 

* Les Francis n’ont pas Tesprit toum^ & rasistocratie ; aprSsts 
liberie et Ta gloire, ce qui va le nueua & leur incHnation, c’est un seal 
entre tous, auguste, place dans une sphere elev^, res^pkndusant de 
i'^iat de la nation & laquellc ii cotrmande^^om ^v^ beau ieur dire 
que les classes superieures sent la decoration d'un tnonarchie-^que la 
perpetuite dos families assure la durr>e des empires, et que leur pre- 
ponderance est necessaire au mainiicn de la libert^-^ls ne nous croi'- 
ront pas ; ct leur inerMulite ne date pas d’hier» Notre histoire n'est 
que le r^cit de la longue guerre du Tiers Etat et de la royaut^ contre 
la noblesse — ^notre revolution cst, il faut Tesperer, la derniere bataille 
de cettc guerre, couronnee par le complet et^lorieux affranchisse- 
ment du Tiers ]^t« ’ 

This General might as well have said at once, that Bona- 
parte’s government is tlie only one his countrymen tike, and are 
fit for ! The French cannot divest themselves of the idea that 
an aristocracy is necessarily feudal^ or necessarily composed of 
fioblesKCj or that thc^^ ^liobles Imve of cotirsc privileges; and it 
must be admitted, that their nobles have taken great paini^ to 
exmfirm these opinions. In that point of view, Spain, where 
the nobility have not yet quarrelled with the people, and have 
preserved their estates, and where the high dignitaries of the' 
church arc very popular, and in general aeserving to be so by 
the exemplary simplicity of their lives, their learning, and their 
virtues, i^sems incomparably better bases for the establishment 
of civil liberty by a mixed monarchy, tlian the table rase of 
France, where toe materials are to he recomposed from their 
simplest elements. 

A change of dynasty has been considered as the proper seal 
to a charter between king and people, the best pledge and token 
of its validity : And k is quite true that a new prince generally 
feels the necessity i>f making up for the deficiency of his title by 
the .popularity of Ws measures. In France, however, from vnf 
rious circumstances, sut^i as the revolutionary tenure of a great 
|>rcqf>ortion of the ladded pro{)erty- 7 fiie prgudic^ again$t the 
mmme which surrounds the actually 

stwfiain the of the preset royrJ family } etid as mucFr 
ejected from ihem ns a compensation Tor this new spey 
cieiffirf blemish in their title, under oilier circomstfances, fitr 
th^jl|i| 9 site defect. It is asseritikl, and we are incUhed to tliiuK 
cAlHSay, that any other prince but a Bourbon,* provided he 


pleas^ tbe army, might dissolve the Chamber , 
of Deputes ajt iuiy time, call no new one, and govern gently 
but amtradiy de& ordonnances, with little opposition froni 
the gi!eat;l|mss ^ the people, and in defiance of the muhnyrs of .. 
the oonsdUitional party. certainly do not meeA to insi'^ 
hnate that tbe BouHkms are, more than other princes, parti- 
cnl^y fond of the libHiy of the people : They may be still 
less so; but tl^y are peculiarly bound to respect it ror their 
dwn sakes. Si In fCawient pas de Bourbons il fmtdroit 

mjmre^ was the late remark of a man who assuredly carniot be 
anspected of any bias in their favour — the celebrated friend of 
Bentharh) and editor of his works. 

The unfavourable results of tbe late elections are imputed by 
one party to th^ Go%’ernment itself. The principles Of the 
Charter, it is said, have been reluctantly and tardily applied, 
with a bad grace, in a manner implying mistrust of the people, 
and with some degr^ of! insincerity^ The few cmning among 
the man V must m^e up d»cir minds to trust them. Henry l\* 
entered IParis, after the siege, bareheaded and tmarined ; vet he 
was a conqueror, which his descendants are not ! It is observ- 
ed, on the other hand, that the faction opposed to the Botg-- 
bons evinced from the beginning such a |ped determination to 
overturn them at any rate, as to justify bn their 

part to deliver themselves up into the hands of implacable ene- 
mies. Ever since the dissolution of the Ultra Chamber in 1816, 
the Government has been moving — slowly, perhaps, and unwil- 
lingly — but still it has been moving towards the principles of 
this party. This, however, was not enough for their impati- 
ence: It seemed indeed as if they would have been better pleas- 
ed with better grounds to be displeased. Tbe Bourbons have 
pardoned as many enemies as would have established a reputa- 
tion for clemency in twenty kings of the old regime;— yet the^ 
are accused de n* avoir rien otibUit CivQ liber^, such as it is 
in France, dates from their restoratian,— yet us rirmt rien ap^ 
j^/--->Tli^ very abuse with which the press teems against their 
government, and the severity widi which its measures are pub- j 
licly convass^ contradict these exagger^bns. 

French writers are fond of drawing comparisons between their 
institutions md ours. The following is iui eloquent summary 
of their opinion^ * 

* Une des chances les pibs heureu^' qui pbt rencontrer la r^- 
vbiution de la Grande Bretagne a eti, i^s Contredit, de S'operer 

E ia premiere ctasse de Tordre social. resistancirii opini&tres* 
out ainsi epargnees, et rexeeuticai* en tehcontmiU nioins d*ob- 
des, n'a pas eu a se d^tendre des hearts et de rcxageratiojm|p 
aaceedeut amt efforts d'uiie nombreuse rcimioff dhonimes. 11 est ar- 


1830 . •*^****- ** 

riv£ Ae 14 oue k parU aristooratique, cm celui de la gra^ 

”«t t Juv2 placed pkitt droit cn t4te des intfirets popuW««. Cette 
Wonstancea 4tfc tr&^iavorable au repos de ce royaume, 4 la suite 
de ses uoubles politiques ; la querelle n’ayont exists qa’^treletrOne 
ff iee*iand8, son issue n'a point laissS d’orages.^fe elle. C est me 
Si.^ doiA nous Bornmes forces de convenir : nuus de quclque avaa- 
au’aient ^6 de pareils antficcdena, I’djservateur attcntif n’y dd- 
r^v^Wil pas le principe de ce mal aise qui iravaille actuelleraent 
la Grande Bretagne ? En effet, da rfevolution, B’y executant par uno 
^e dfeia puissante, abicn pu repandre des mnnes de prosperitd 
dans le sein de la nation qui y a accede plus qu elle no 1 a fade ; mais 
aes orincipaux bfenefices ont d(i appartenir a ses fondateurs. Ou le 
reene d’un sdul a cease, le regne multiplife des grands a prfivjdu. Rc- 
imis dans un petit nombre de mains, les richesses et les emplois pi*- 
lics s’^ sont ‘concentres encore davantage. La nation Anglaise a 
cuok le produit de ses terres et celui des objets importes dans son ile 
uar le travail industriel de ses machines et de ses manufactures ; elle a 
couvert les mers des deux mondes de ses vaisseau* avec une telle pro- 
fusion oue Ton a cru voir sortir de la Tamise la Grande Bretagne elle- 

Bifeme transformie en une multitude de villes flottantes ; I'Indoustan 

est devenu sa cobqufite et sa province, comme les quartiers St. Ger- 
i pain et St. Honord sont les faubourgs de Paris; ses comptoirs do- 
ndnent tous les rivageaet tous les archipels ; endn, 1 Angleterre ex- 
iste nresflue partout globe ; et cet immense mouvemcnt de vie, 
nni rnborde 4 deux imlle lieues de distance, s execute au seul pro- 
t d’un tr4s-petit nombre d’hommcs connus sous le nom de Lords ou 
de roarchands Anglais ! Sur cette tie, dont I’empire est si prodigi- 
eusement 4tcndu, le peuple est-d heureux? Le peuple ttouve-t-il 
dans la forme de son gouvernement, de vraies garanUes dune situa- 
tion qu’il puisse cberit et d’une independance honorable ? Je ne le 
crois pas. Admire aii-dehors, il maflque de pain clicz lui ; redoutfi 
I’Inde et sur plusieurs points de I’Europe, il tremble au milieu 
de ses muraillcs ; il fait mouvoir desmilliers de madiines, et ses mal- 
heureux artisans restent les bras croises ; il est glorieux de sa tcrre 
natole ; et pour ne pas y expirer de faim, il va etre blentdt reduit 4 
la fuir. A ^uoi attribuw.ces contrastes dfiplorables de grandeur fac- 
tice et de msere rlelle, si ce tfest pas 4 une chose dont nous sommes 
heureusement pr&ervds— 4que notre revolution a doign^e de nous Mur 
un temps ihdefini, et que par des vues fausses et courtes on voudroit 

y etAblir* j i « 

‘ Ai-je besoin de mmncr la grande pn^itiltd au nom de laqueUe 
on nous prepare des iaipiovations ^ui gdtenuent notre avmir, et cot- 
romproient un present auquel il ne manqim que de swndr apprecier 
ce qu’il renferme de b«i et d’bmorable ? En vain vous tourmenter- 
ez vous pout toblir bors de la cham^re des pairs des prominences 
dristocratiques dans notre beau arovaume. L’esprit de ses habitaiw 
vous repousse, et la Providence i^ro6me a donnd un dementi a 
voudWoctrine fimeste «u dissfeiinant tespropridtO. Quatre mnlious 
. 6 



iSliomines posaeilant aujourdliui ies terreg en France t Rendez eH 
graces au ciel» dont la a^esae assure ainsi le repos des t^ps jqin 
darment cnctifre dans les saintcg obgcurtt6s de ses decrets. > N’aTlez pa^ 
itater les dc la dissolution des empires par la puissant de^jgu^]* 
<qiies*uns^' et le denuemeni hideux du plus grand nombre. , Voyez la 
leprede )a Grande-Bretagnc^jetez les yeux sur ses deux millions de 
mend^ansf et aimez votre pays, tel qu une puissanee pr^servatrice la 
O^missez, si tous te voidez encore, sur les malhcurs de notre 
. ^6lation ; mats au moins recuetS^z en le fruit. N’a-t-il pas 
^assez ch^rement payl pour nc ^ le fouler aux pieds ? La eoupe 
du bonheur et de la joie, apres bien des peines, est presents d beau* 
coup ; il u'y a qu*une main mechante qui puisse repousser le vase et 
renverser la liqueiu*. ’ 

We shall certainly not undertake the defence of our |>oor- 
laws; — they are the result of a humane but mistaken policy, 
grown into an intolerable abuse. Yet we must be permitted 
to obset'vc, that tlicre have been laws for the compulsory relief 
of the poor in aireountries ; and we find them at this moment 
in full operation in Switzerland. At Paris, however, the evil 
seems at its bciglit ; public documents show, that there are in 
that city considerably more than one hundred thousand indi- 
viduals, or more than one-seventh of the whole population, who 
receive support from public charity ; and It is, if possible, a still 
more appalling fact, that of the inhabitants of that 

spl^did and luxurious metropolis, dies in its hospiutis. * The 
tiiiinbcr of common beggais about the streets of Paris, and on 
the high foads of France, is beyond iUl comparison greater than 
with us. 

Our elections, it is said, are corrupt. — It would be nearer the 

^ The Rafport au Cornell General des Hmpices^ states the 

fiumber of sick admitted into the diBercnt hospitals of Paris, in 10 

? ears, from 1804 to 1814, to have been 852,913 dead 47,8G1 
'hose admitted into the different hospices) m 

during the Kline period - - } ^ 


403,377 ^ 60,438 ’ 

Another ofRctal tapport for the two last years, shows a great increase. 
42,442 individuals have been admitted in the different hospitals and 
hospices of the capital in tlio year 1818* 7043 liave died ; and the 
total number of deaths at Paris bos been 22,382. In J319, 7,310 
have died in the hospitals and hospices, but of a total nunaber of 
deaths at Paris of 22J37. ^ \ 

number , of individuals more or loss assisted at public expense 
at '^as^ht has been for the iirst period oHo years, 104,000 smnuully ; 
ih the number was 10vS,742, rncludiiig 17,247 ibundiingsp** 

‘4 . • 




trutJi to call them inconsLstont, irregular and strange ; and vve are 
very from saying that the system docs not rcH^iiire improve- 
•mfent: yet when foreigners, who profess liberal opinions in politics, 
see such m&nbers as Mr Tierney, Mr Brougham, and Sir J?unes 
Macicintosh, returned for boroughs in the imiuediate dependepccf 
of the hi^ ajistocracy, they might pause before tliey ventured to 
pasSj^an indiscriminate censure upon anomalies tlrnt frequently 
leatl to #uch results, Tlicir own mode of elections has cer- 
tainly not the rust of aiitu]iuty to plead in extenuatioii of any 
of its defects ; yet we are told that Corsica, with less than forty 
electors, sends two members to the Chamber of Deputies, 
wliilc Paris, w'ith nine thousand doctors, sends only eight; that 
the Dcjiartriicnt of the Baascs FijrcnceSy with less than four hun- 
dred .electors, sends three members, while the 7hr/V, with more 
tlian 1 200 electors, scuds only two ; and many other strange, 
but hai-mless irregularities, in the application of the law. 

As to our mobs and riots again, it is obvious to remark, that 
n people constantly agitated by the publication of all sorts of 
opinions, and among whom every demagogue is at liberty to 
fling his firebrand — a people fully aware of its own importance, 
naturally impatient of any superior, and laudably jealous ot 
pnwer—- may run into excesses of which the ready slaves of any 
tyrant who shows tbm the point of a bayonet can have no no- 
tion. Artificers, too, long accustomed to a plentiful and luxu- 
rious mode of living, may become unruly and factious, v;hen 
the sources of ilicir enjoyments happen to be momentarily dried 
up, by events out of the power of man to control. If the lat- 
ter had never known the indulgences of \vealUi, and the former 
never felt the pride of independence, they would bear their evils 
in silence, like the poor and the oppressed of other countries. 
Foreigners are apt to be misled. by wdiat they read in our news- 
papers, or hear from our own travellers. Complaints against 
the Government, and dismal forebodings about the loss ofliber- 
ty, are nowhere so frequent and so loud as in those countries 
where there is on th6 whole tlie least reason for sttch appro- 

Gne half of the population of France are proprietors of the 
soil, while little more than one sixth of ours arc so. We liave 
already admitted this superiority of our neighbours over us, and 
wish the salutary measure of die restoration of cottages and gar- 
den ground, wliich have almost disappeared, maybe extensively 
adopted by our great landed proprielorp, in order that the si- 
tuation of their labourers may be as.^imiuiUd to that of the 
French peasantry, as far as is desirable. Il is, however, well 
worth observing, and every impartial observer acquainted wkb 

TSt, xxxjv. NO, 67 . C 




the two countries will admit, that the respective dwellings of 
our egricultural labourers^ and the French proprtefors, Ibrm^ a 
strikiiuf contrast, inj^int of neatness and comfort, vrhollv in fa-' 
Tour of the former. The difference, however, is easily explained : 
nearly tlie whole time of the English labourer's wife is dedicated to 
domestic employments; while the wife of the French proprietor 
labours with him in the fields : the latter, in looks and manners, 
might be taken for the servant of the former. The is, that 
die' far greatest number of the French proprietors are not much 
better off than our labourer, the salutary feeling of property 
excepted. The further sulxlivision of that propeity, already so 
divided, threatens the most serious consequences such as the 
total want of capital for any improvement — the total vrant of 
resources in years of scarcity — the difficulty of finding indivi- 
duals writh sufficient leisure, and in circumstances sufficiently 
independent, to accept offices of public trust without emolu- 
ment or for whom the emolument would not become the first 
and only object. The class of landed proprietors, thus lower- 
ed, will become more and more subordinate to the trading and 
manufacturing class, which will be at no very distant period the 
only governing class in France. 

The general application of the principle of the division of 
labour, and the rapid improvements of machines, may have 
multiplied the produce of our industry faster than the reduced 
markets of the world required, and encouraged our manufac- 
turing population beyond the safe and permanent means of sub- 
sistence. The system of large farms, preferable undoubtedly 
on the score of net proceeds, may also have repressed our ru- 
ral population too suddenly ; but the same spirit which led to 
the excessive application of wholesome principles, will infalli- 
bly correct the abuse of them. We think ourselves warranted 
in saying, that most of the abuses and troublesome results of 
our institutions, may be traced directly to some principle of ex- 
uberant vigour shooting beyond the mark ; they are the price 
we pay for overbalancing advantages— the wrong side of a good 

S overnment ; and the reasoning of those who condemn them on 
lat account, would prove, if admitted, that a bad government * 
is the best ! 

The Constituent Assembly wanted to give France a monarchy 
without intermediate powers — a Royal dmocracy — the veiy name 
implying a false conception of the thing. A republic followed 
course; and what republic, every body knows ! The same 
i|dea is still afloat in the same heads in France. Those among 
thte who tolerate a constitutional aristocracy, maintain that the 
of Peers is that aristocracy. These Peers havcJb^ 




> chos^L^^t different times on the spur of the occasion^ for tlie 
«8ake of their individual votes in the Chamber — some from the 
old nobility, some from the new ; — the poorest for life only-T 
the richest (those who can secure ten thousand francs a year, 
by a settibment on real estate, or in the funds, to their poste* 
rity) for ever. Those who w'ere Senators under Bonaparte, re!- 
tain theie salary of 24,000 franks a year (1000/. Sterling); the 
others have had smaller pensions assigned to them, more or less 
as pleased the King. Most of them live obscurely at Paris ; 
very few are known out of that capital, or have any interest or 
influence in^ the country ; and w^j are persiiaded that the cow- 
&titutio7ial fine cloalc, hat and plume, d la Henri IV., might 
be shifted to the heads and shoulders of any other set of wor- 
thy old gentlemen, without the nation finding out that tlie actors 
in this dramatic representation of an aristocracy had been ebangr 
cd. The peerage has been defined the legal void jn ivile^ed reprer 
sentation of the natural aristocracy of the country without 
vileges $ but if the latter do not exist in the country, the peer- 
age represents nothing. Aristocrats without an aristocracy, the 
peers of France are a mere fiction of tlie law. 

•The natural aristocracy of a country cannot be created by 
laws; for confidence is not a legal privilege, but must be won 
fairly from the good will of those who have it to grant. Indi- 
viduals in affluent circumstances, residing habitu^ly on their 
estates in the country, and devoting their time without remu- 
neration to the service of their fellow-citizens, in the municipal 
and provincial administration— on jiiric*5 — us justices of the 
peace — supplying the poor with work, and the rich with a^- 
inusement — aflbrding advice and protection to all in inferior 
condition — liberal in their private transactions with their neigh- 
bours— able and willing to defend the rights of the people on 
all occasions; — tljose, and those only, are the natural arista* 
crncy of a free country : And their claims as candidates for the 
popular branch of the Legislature, are not weaker, in a po- 
^ iiticai point of view, for being founded principally on mere 
• personal gratitude : For, of all the motives by wiiich votes can 
be determined in any country, this is perhaps, on the whole, 
the least exceptionable, and Uie most beneficial in its oonsc- 
<mences. Such an aristocracy^, far from alarming the pride of 
the people, affords it a continual gratification. It is not ob- 
noxious, for it does not govern. tJontiniially recruited from 
the people, by the accession of the great and the good, or at 
least ofethe skilful and fortunate, this popuhir aristocracy is in- 
de bted, for its weight with tlie Crown, to its influence over tlies 
pcdple, and, for its influence over the people, to a friendly iu- 
• G 2 




tevcoiirse with then). Instead of rebuilding it thus fr^jp the 
foundation, the IViciuU of an aristocracy, in France, begin fr6m, 
the third storey : — no wonder if it shoidd not stand. 

A judicious organization of municipal and departmental ad-^ 
ministration, would tend to establish, in the great mass of the 
people of France, hitherto so loose and unconnected, that 
mutual correspondence ol* parts, and aggregation of <^«ntercsts, 
whicli can alone give solidify and duration to liberal institutions. 
“People who are not trusted with the administration of Uie 
internal affairs of their own village, and are under perpetual 
guardianship for their most trifling concerns, can scarcely be 
deemed conipctont to choose the deputi(‘s wlio are to legislate 
for the whole nation. 

When the feudal iiobilify ceased to he an object of dread un-* 
dcr Louis XIV\, the connnons began to excite some jealousy , 
and the doclrines of the Ilcformalion, which subjected church 
authority to pop\ilar scrutiny, served as a warning to political 
rulers. The institution of 2ntnu/a7is of provinces, or ratlicr the 
extension of tlicir powers, by which that of corporations and mu- 
nicipal administrators was abridged, preceded, by two years, tlie 
revocation of the Edict of Nantes. But the municipal offices 
of maireSf consciihrxj echcoimy capifotihy &c. &c., did not cease 
to be elective by the commwies till 1771, when government sud- 
denly assumed the right of disposing of them for money, unless 
where the towns or communes redeemed their right by pur- 
chase. Things remained in that situation — till the Revolution, 
suppressing all existing institutions, substituted to these venal 
officers new ones elected by eveiy man paying taxes to the 
amount of three days’ labotir. The municipality of Paris, elected 
in this manner, and composed of 14*7 members, presided by the 
Mayor, was destined to act a iioforioiis part in the worst times 
of the Revolution : But the Convention, dreading even the aris- 
tocracy of the democracy, soon deprived the municipal magis- 
trates in the provinces of the local administration. It was after- 
wards restored to them for a while, to disappear again before 
the system of universal centralization cstablislied by Bonapart(* 
—in whose time it remained a dead letter in the cotle, explained 
away, as all his laws were, by the supposed interests of his des- 
potism. The smallest want of tlie smallest eonmmt was refer- 
red to the central power.. — The repairs of a bridge, for exain- 
pfo, across a brook in a remote village, recjiiired the followu’ng 
,|ttreUminary steps. 1. There was a petition to tlie mayor ; 
2. The mayor applied to the sub-prefet ; 3. Tie obtjiiried of th<.‘ 
ffrefet pcimission for the municipal council to assemble; j. T he 
HUinicipal council lieing assembled, appointed cornnii8barit?S^v:r- 



perUU 5. The commtaBai'ies reported; 6. Tlw municipal coun- 
%€S <Idil)eratcd, and sent the opinion to llui iufhprefct^ and he to 
the pr<;fct J 7. Tlie prefet applied to ilie minister of the interior ; 
S* Me to his Imperial Majesty, giving an opinion on the case; 
0< His Imperial Majesty affixed his signature, and the paper went 
to the Conseil iCEtat^ Rcclion de Vintcrimr 10. The president of 
the scctiipn of the interior apjmmtcd a rappoi'tair ; 1 1 , The latter 
explained the business to his zeetion ; 12. The business was call- 
ed up ill due time before the Conseil £Etai^ a decision obtained, 
and sent back to the secretary of state, who sent it to the niinis- 
tor ol' the interior, who sent it to the pr^et^ who sent it to the 
sub-ptrfeli who sent it to the mayor, who pave permission fur the 
l>ridgc .over llio brook to be repaired ! — Any mistake in point of 
form, tlic omission of a stam}) or other irregularity in any of 
these proceedings, miulc it necessary to begin the whole process 
anew. Of all the authorities consiiitcil, not one knew any thing 
about the matter, except die mayor and municipal council ; and 
the whole might os 'well have been left to these Ippal authorities. 
The prixjecds of the oclrois of towns, or municipal duties, al- 
though levied expressly fur local purpose?, w'ere always remitted 
t© Paris; and the money necessary to defray local expenses sent 
back again from Paris, wliere no nroper check could exist on 
either receipts or i^burseuients. \\T)cn Holland belonged to 
Bonaparte, it was necessary to scud to Paris, before a dyke, the 
state of which dircatencd the whole? CQimtry with submersion, 
could be re})aircd. ^ 

TJiis tnnniprcsent administration of despotism, w'c are sorry 
10 say, has Ixjcn preserved entire under tlic restored dynasty ; 
and the people are so fobhioued to it, that they scarcely suspect 
its existence, while in fact shackled in many respects beyond 
wdiat tlicy were under die old monarchy^ Many a worthy omtr* 
i;eois de Paris^ g^iwg to St. Cltnid or Versailles widi his family, 
thinks it necessary at diis day to provide himself with a passi>ort ; 
aud in fact any body without one is liable to be arrested by the 
first gendarme or c^ent de police he meets ; and, if not sent to 

1 orison, lie is iiulclTtcd for the favour to tlicir forbearance, and to 
lis own ready acknowledgement of dicir authority. Industt’y 
is far more free in France than it was of old ; and that is almost 
ihe only instance of freedom resulting from a revolution which 
hu^roduced so much cqmliiy in the mode of subjection. 

The consequence of the system of centralization is, that the 
time of a French sccreUry of stale is so entirely taken up w'itli 
HeUiils, that he Iiua none to give to the general direction of 
affiiirs; and the miinbcr not only oi’ his clerks, but of his hu- 
is so great, that he scarcely knows them all, their proper 




functions, or indeed his own ; — and all this is to enable J|im to 
do so iniperfectlj for the people, what they might do so mucih^ 
better for themselves. Tbe following remark of Mr Necker 
shows that these evils were established and felt even in his time. 
\ En ramenant a Paris tous les fils de Tadministration, ’ ('said he in 
Iiis Mennoire 4%ur les Administrations Provinciates,) ‘il setrouve 
c'ost dans le lieu oii Ton ne sait que par dcs ^rapports 

* Soigncis oiJ Ton ne croit qu’a crux d’un sciil homme, ofi Ton 

* n*a iarriais le temps d’approfondir, qu’on cst oblige de diriger 

* et cie discoater toutes les parties dVxeciition appartenanies a 

* SOO millions d’inipositions, subdlvises de mille nianieres, par 

* les formes, les esp6ces, et les usages. ' 

There is at Paris a small set of speculative politicians railed 
doctrinaires, and sometimes nii/is (noodles), by those who 
mean to speak of them civilly ; for the champions of the two 
great parties which divide the State give them much harsher 
names. These politicians object to a system of election found- 
ed solely on a certain rate of properly, which, be it high or 
low, gives electors all of one sort— and exhibits a narrow line 
drawn as it were through the nation, excluding, either in direct 
terms or otherwise, all who do not come exactly under it. In- 
stead of thi.s, they would prefer a system of elections classing 
together similar interests, and giving to ei^ clmtcr its special 
rejnesentatfon. We incline decidedly to their opinion ; and the 
difficulties in the way of realizing it w^ould be no reason for 
despairing of success, with ai people less impatient and less pre- 
judiced. Without entering here upon the piactical means, of 
attaining this end, we shall only say, that a gO!>d system of mu- 
nicipal administration appears the first step reemisite. Some 
permanency of property is equally essential: ior the entire 
dispersion of families has not only an immoral bnt impolitic 
tendency. The father of a family, with a moderate landed pro- 
perty, and several sons, is obliged to send them to seek their 
^rtune, and remain^ alone in his latter days, with the melancho- 
ly prospect of his house and fields being ^d to strangers the 
moment he is dead, and the proceeds divided among impatient 
^co-heirs, to whom it will afford but a momentary assistance. 
The main incitement to a country life is ihus destroyed, while 
there can be no pennanent connexion between the cuiss of elec- 
tors and that of candidates. The latter accordingly are found 
mostly at Paris, and the former in their villages; so that the 
idea of personal choice, or attachment, is utteny excluded. 

By the present French code, the father of a family may dis- 
pose of one^haf of his property by will, if he leaves only one 
cbild<^of one^ihird, if he leaves two— ofone;/cwr///, if hel^^fes 




a greyer number; die remainder being divided among 

^the cnrldren. This arrangement seems to reconcile the natnrd 
claims of ^ounger children, and the political claim of eld- 
est Son; for the fornier cannot be left destitute, and the latter 
may preserve the family estate from partition, if ho is enablec^ 
by the father’s using this limited power of testation in his favour^ 
by the ^rtunc of his wife, or otner personal means, to pay off 
the portions of his brothers and sisters. The inhabitants of 
the left side of the Loire, accustomed to the Roman law, which 
favoured the eldest son, generally contrive in this way to pre- 
serve the family estate; while those on the right side of that 
river {fays coutumier\ do not avail themselves of the provisions 
of t^e law. The fc'Hings of parents, which must usually be a- 
verse to any difference between their children, are entitled to 
respect, and politicjil considerations are of little avail against 
the claims of nature ; yet as protection is not due to property 
on its own account, or for the benefit or pleasure of those alone 
who possess it, but for the advantage ot society at large, the 
legislature might, with perfect propriety, make the provisions of 
the code obligatory instead of permissive. The right of pro- 
perty was emphatically denominated folilical by Montesquieu^ 
meaning that it is not purely personal : At the same time, as a 
law at variance with public feelings and opinions can rarely be 
carried into effect, the adoption of sounder views must perhaps 
be left to time, and a dispassionate consideration of the subject. 

It appears to us that the final establishment of a good govern- 
ment in France now depends upon the people themselves, ra- 
ther than upon any new laws and institutions which might be 
imposed upon them. If they really wish for the permanent e- 
stablishment of civil liberty, they must consent to the sacrifices 
necessary to obtain it ; — ^and, above all, they must wiut in pa* 
ticnce for the gradual ripening of those institutions, and the de- 
velopment of those habits, interests, and feelings in the body 
of the nation, by which alone either the value of the present 
system, or the necessity or safety of any farther changes in it, 
can be ascertained. ^ 

Art. IL Classijicazime Dclle Rocce secondo ifin^ Celehi 
tori. Per seiDire alio studio della Geologia. Milano, 1814?. 
Duodecimo. dSO pp. 

Tn our 45th Number, we took occasion to examine a work on 
the classification of Rooks from the pen^f Mr Pinkerton^ 
fitdTlo point out the insufficiency of the author for the task which 

he bad undeital;^ ‘l^ii scarc^jf iaSoif^ 

Ipgicd read^ the oblivion .mte vdiicli that vmik Ijfiij 
servedljr falieh. ' The ardour with which this partichkr branch 
of science ainee been cultivated;^ had led us to1j6pe,lhat 
the blank in this most indispensable part of its elementary 
knowledge Woul^ ere this, have been supplied by some one m 
those who are rSw ardently pressing forward in this cbuiiee in 
Britain. Nothing however has yet been done in this country ; 
and it is chiefly with a view to excite the industry of those who 
may be possessed of tlie information required lor such a v*ork, 
'jhat we are induced to notice the present compilatio,n. 

It may perhaps appear extraordinary to our readers, that 
while our presses have groaned undcij the Systems of Minera- 
logy which have been produce^l in such rajiid succession for the 
last few years, no arrangement of Ih^cks has been formed, ex- 
cept the aboiiJve production above mentioned. This dearth, 
or rather, absence of such works, is, liowever, not difficult of 
explanation. Excepting die collection of Essays which stands 
at the head of diis article, and some others of no greater mo- 
ment, which it is unneccssan^ to mention, no systems of this 
nature have been published from which our makers of boots 
could have borrowed their materials : And these Essays are 
not of a nature to admit either of being reconcoctecl or gar- 
bled by the compilers whose motto is ‘ nil dictum quod non 
dictum prius. ' There are not, on this subject, the Lectures 
of Werner^ nor the System of Hauy, into which die manu- 
facturer of a voluminous work may dig for his materials:— 
he must have recourse to the great mine of Nature — ^a mine 
closed to those ^ homines trium literarum, * whose talents are 
limited to the art of * pouring out of one phial into another, ’ 
and who, when they have transposed a few specimens from the 
top to the bottom of a cabinet, imagine that they have madoi 
wonderful progress in science. Let us but see one tolerable 
arrangement oi rocks, and w^e venture to predict, that no long 
time will elapse before similar #'orks will sw^rm around us ; 
ffom the bulk of two or three 8vo volumes, to that of the mini- 
kin productions of Mr Maw^e. 

The present work contains the Essays of Brongnlart, I)c la 
M^therie, Tondi (published by Lucas), and Broclmnt, — names 
well kno\m to our geological readers; together witli an apjwn- 
db&'jSn VOTcanic rocks, comprising the sclicmes of Dolomicu, 
TI|^son, Haiiy, and Faujas dc St Fond. Wc shall attend 
P^capally to me four first authors, who have treated that 
^ the subject which is Uic most gcueial and imponant: 
W (bi laUcr Essays, a brief notice will suffice. Of’ these foiS, 

bavc adc^ted m atra^igement 
"pri^ples, ot otr the mineral characters dr^>o4^ 
ivhethfer simpie or compound: while the two latter 4ir^ 
ranged the rocks wliich they dei^ibe, according to the oroer 
or uic an&logies which they lioid in nature towards each other^ 
and to the general structure of the eaitll ; thus adopting a Gea^ 
logical^ instead of a mincralogical principle of arrangement. 
Kacb system lias its advantages, inch each has its inconve- 
nicTict^s ; and as we are of opinion that the whole question of 
present utility and future improvement hinges upon the choice 
w’hich is heje open to us, \vn filiall take the liberty of examin- 
ing this part of ihij subject in some detail. 

Our readers wlio arc conversant with tlie w^orks of these se- 

veral autliors, will m)t be surprised to learn that Brongniart 
alone has given the reasons for prefe rring a miiyralogical to a 
geological method. These ai*c detailed at some length in his 
prefatorj^ ^observations. De la Mi therie propounds his ar- 
rangement without defending it; and the other two, though not 
with equal vigour, follow, as is usual with the pupils of that 
school, in the infallible track which leads from Frovberg through 
' fJir the obscure regions of nature. If we shall be found to 
• coincide with them hi the principle of arrangement, it is not 
because, like tliem, we have drank of the ‘ Ions (’abiillintis ; * 
but because we approve of tlic principle wliich the sagacity, 
rather than the philosophy, of Werner, has letl him to adopt. 
To that sagacity, to his persevering industry and accuracy in 
minutia?, we are always ready to render justice ; but we must 
be permitted to express our doubts of his capacity for gene- 
ralization, or for those wide views witliout which no man ever 
emerged IVoni the haberdashery of experiment or observa- 
tion. It has been said, that * Si Dominus Dcus non fecisact 
l^ipani infall ibilern, Dominus Deus non fuisset discrctus ; ’ and 
the same maxim apj>eared for some time to be adopted by the 
pupils of this celebrated school. But Jack and Martin have 
begun to cut olf the epaulettes; and we trust, in no long time, 
to sec tlie reformation established on the more solid basis of cx- 

leiided observation and cautious generalization. 

‘ liocks, * says Brongniart, ‘ may be considered under two differ- 
ent views ; Jirst, according to their composition, that is, according 
to tlie nature, the quantity (or projmrtion), and the disposition of 
the substance of wliich they are formed ; aecondly^ according to their 
position, or to the places which tliev occupy in the structure of the 
Ijlalie, and the analogies ox relations whioh they bear to eacli other. 
From these considerations there result two principles of classifica- 
and we bhall procted to consider, * Szc, &c. The argument 
for and against the two principles of arrangeiiiont arc then brief- 

|i2 Clatsificalim ^ B&eii. t4f 

ly stated : Bvtt as we do not consider tliat the excellent aathor 
has examined this subgcct with much care or affection, we shall 
not proceed with our extract, but radier endeavomf* to lay be- 
fore our rentiers our own views of this important quei^onu^ 

A classification of rocks on a Mincralogical principle must 
unquestionably be considered, in oiie sense at least, as a natu- 
ral arrangement; associating those combinations of minerals 
which are actually tbund in nature, just as in the organized 
world we associate certain combinations of forms. It may also 
be contrived in such a manner as lo distinguish the simple from 
tile compound rocks, and thus to reler the former to their pro- 
per places in the system of miuernlogy ; while it is mure exclu- 
sively occupied in the classification of the latter. 

As, in nature, the same comj)ounds occur in different C5eolo- 
gical positions, it follows, tiuit any arrtmgcment on a Geological 

J irinciple njus> involve repetitions, wliich cannot occur in one 
bitrded on mineralogical characters. It is also ewdent, that 
from the present impetiect stale of the science^ much must be 
assumed or conjectured respecting the genenil order of‘ succes- 
sion among rocks, and tlie annlcgies ^ihich they bear to each 
otbVr; 80 that, to a certfiin degree, every getilogical arrangie- 
ment must be hypothetical, while no hypothesis is involved in a 
mineralogicai one« 

Were a sufficiently extensive nomenclature provided and re^ 
ceived, it is evident that a mineralogicai arrangement wculd 
furnish a name for cverj^ rock ; and that it would thus be ena- 
bled accurately lo limit the same term to the same compound^ 
whatever might be its position in nature. To all which advan- 
tages it may lastly be added, that the knowledge of rocks clas- 
sified on this principle, demands no geological investigations ; 
and is open to every one who has acquired the previous know- 
ledge of minerals in their simple state. 

Now we most readily admit, that, as far as the mineral bis^^ 
iory of the species or varieties of rocks is concerned, a mine- 
Talogical cliu^sification is the best that could be adopted ; and 
that it would, if perfect, materially facilitate the examination 
or description of a cabinet of specimens. Such a classification 
could only, however, be considered as part of a system of mi- 
neralogy. As yet, all these systems must be considered as artifi- 
cial ; dassing, in the manner most convenient for investigation, 
those substances of which the obscure and involved affinities have 
as yet prevented all possibility of a natural arrangement. If 
the simple rocks, therefore, are to be described among the aint-. 
pie minerals, as in the system of Brongniart, the compound, 
to rmdertiie system uniforjUi should be enumerated in tW cw* 

^ wlogue^of accidents to which each niineral is liable with re- 
spect to mixture or association. If this be not adopted to its 
full extent,*it is obvious that rocks^ objects of such importance, 

' not only in the history of the earth, but in that of the minerals 
themselves, become separated into two distinct works or cata- 
logues. As it is also not uncommon for a single mass of rock 
to be coffipounded in one pliice and simple in another, it would 
be necessary to search for it in two distinct catalogues ; and pos- 
sibly, in the imperfect state to which all new arrangements must 
be subject, in me works of two diifereiit authors. 

The difficulties to w'hich wc have just alluded, which have 
hitherto prevented us from eslabiishing a natural, and at the 
same^time an useful classification of minerals, interfere even in 
a greater degree w ith any attempts to form a natural and an 
useful arrangement of rocks on a mincralogical basis. The 
most important characters of these are frequently to a consider- 
able degree independent of the minerals which enter into their 
composition. Not unfreqiicntly, also, a rock will retain all its 
most essential qualities, although undergoing considerable mi- 
; neralogical changes, by the loss of one, or the ac(|uisit5on of 
I another substance. It must also be evident, that tlie capricious, 
.and almost endless modes in which the minerals that constitute 
rocks are intermixed, would lead to an enumeration of species 
that would confound the student by its excess, or, if curtailed, 
defeat the object of tlie contriver. 

It is, therefore, an important defect in such a classification, 
that it bears no necessary relation to some of the most interest- 
ing characters of rocks. But it is also difficult to propose luiy 
mincralogical method which is uniform and unexceptionable; 
even were we to overlook the advantages derived from one which 
should fulfil that condition to which we have just alluded. Let 
us suppose, for cxiunple, that the presence of some particular 
mineral is made tlie ground of association. In such a case, it 
is evident, that substances most widely separated, not only in 
their natural affinities, but even in their characters as mere 
cimens, or rocks, may be associated together ; since the mtno^ 
rals which enter into their composition are very few, and are 
repeated under many different combinations throughout a gre^ 
number of rock species. We need not quote examples to the 
geological reader of the confusion that would thus ensue, for 
example^ by assuming either quartz, nfica, or felspar, as the 
common bond of a class, or of any inferior division. ' 

: If, again, the predominance of some one mineral be made 
^the groundwork of a division, it is easy to see tliat the same 
iTbck might be separated into ^Serene classes or subdivisions of 

an inferior klnd^ This, for example, wotiW often bi|ppcn in ^ 
the case of granite ; which may contain in excess anyone of thin 
different minemls that enter into its composition. 

In the next place, let it be imagined that the texime of arftck is ■ 
assumed as a common bond of union, and it will bo njualJy ap- 
parent, that under the granitic, theporpliyricic, or die schistose, 
cogn^ate substmices may be widely separated, and th^»se which 
are entirely different in other move essential circumstances be 
associated. Tlie same reasoning applies to any attempt to ar- 
range rocks according to /Ar mmher of the substances of which 
they are composed. Tlius, if a binary, or a ternary propor- 
tion be made the groundwork of any association, similar offecis 
will follow ; as it is not unfrajuent for tlie same rock to Yary in 
the number of its ingi'cdients. It would be abundantly easy 
to illustrate all these objections by a reference to well-known 
rocks ; but tlie eiiumeralion is scarcely required, and would ex- 
tend these remarks too far. It must, indeed, be obvious, that 
any mineralogical arrangement, even should it combine all these 
methods in tJie most careful manner, must in a great degree ^ 
bo arbitrary ; and Uiat it must hold out the shadow, rather than 
the substance, of a natural method. * ^ 

If wc even imagine such a system to be perfected, it is evi- 
dent, as w^e have hinted above, tliat it wmld require a very nu- 
merous, as well as an appropriate set of terms ; and tliis, as far 
as it has been executed by the able author who stands first in 
tlie work under review, it actually docs. Let us consider, then, 
how this would affect geological descriptions, the principal ol.^ 
ject for which a knowledge of rocks is required. There is no 
necessary relation between tlie composition of a rock and its 
place in the order of nature ; and many varieties of composi- 
tion, us W'e have just seen, occur in the same mass of rock, — 
as in the familiar instances of the porphyries and gneiss. Many 
terms would, therefore, be required in such cases, to describe 

« c geological fact, or oue set of connexions ; and it would also 
low in other instances, that such connexions would appear 
to be implied where they did not exist ; merely in consequence . 
of the terms by which rocks, similar in composition, but dif- 
ferent in geological characters, were designated. The circum- 
locutions and dilFiculiics tliat would follow, in the first of these 
cases, and the confusion tliat would result in the latter, are too 
obvious to be stated. 

Tiierc is another objection to a mineralogical arrangement, 
whfoh apjiears to us of no small importance. It renders oti 
equal value those rocks which are rare, and in some measure^ 
acokiental^ luid those which are of the greatest consequence altri 

IJ^terest, as fdr as the structure df the earth, or the^ natural his^ 
tor*y oflhese substances, is concerned. The most rare modifi- 
Shtions, the«xnost limited varinies, would thus claim as much at- 
. tention as those which are the most constant and the most com- 
mon ; w^hlje differences, which maybe of the greatest importance 
^ in geological science, but would not excite much attention front 
" thOT miiicralogicfJ composition, may thus pass with much less, 
notice tfian they demand. Hornblende schist will furnish Uie 
reader with an etisy illustration of this remark. In the same 
Geological connexions it may be dmple, or it may contain a few 
particles of felspar ; but, according to a Mineralogical system, it 
must be designated by two distinct terms; and, what is worse,, 
tlic simple rock will not even be found in the arrangement at all, 
but raust be sought for among the si^iple substances in tlie sys-' 
tcjn of mineralogy. 

If, therefore, m one senscy a mineralogical arrangement of 
rocks is natural, it is, in a much more in^portant vrew^, unnatural, 
or artificial; as it dii^oins the wider and more interesting affini- 
ties by which tlicsc substances arc connected with each other and 
with the general structure of the earth. It is, in fact, an artificial 
system, with the imposing appearance of a natural one ; found- 
ed on a minute set of appearances, and negligent of the larger 
features, and the numerous important circumstances of affinity, 
or difference, which prevail among tlie objects of its contempla- 
tion. Thus it in some measure resembles the artificial arraiigc- 
ments of the ancient botanists as compared w ith the more pliiio- 
sophical views of the moderns in their establishment of Natural 
Orders. Mineralogists, indeed, appear in this instance to have, 
been misled by tlie example of Linnams, and by^lhe valuable 
consequences that have residud from his systems in theorgimiz- 
cil departments of natural history; forgetful of the impottant 
and radical differences by wliich these departments are distin- 
guished from the jjeculinr objects of their study. 

Were it possible to make any arrangement, however artifi- 
cial, which sKould facUlUite the study of rocks as constituent 
parts of the cartli's structure, it would form a val liable acqnisT- 
lion to the geologist, as well as to the collector of sfU'cimens. 
But if, in teaching tlie latter to arrange Ins cabinet, it inisleada 
the former — it is injurious and not beneficial. In tlie present 
state of our kno’wledgc, it appears indeed a vain attempt, as 
well as an inconvenient and injurious sacrifice to the formalities 
of an imaginary logic. 

; In proceeding to consider ihc’compnrative advantages and 
I dt^fects of a Geologicfd arrangement of Ivocks, w'c think that the 
authors under review have not been sufficiently careful in dis- 

4 « 

tXtissiJvc&tim of lto£X^0 

tinguishing betwc^ the study of minerals and diat of the struc- > 
lure of the earth. The connexion of the former with tlie lattej 
is doubtless an important part of their history ; but* the know- 
ledge of minerals can never form a proper basis for the arrange- 
ment of the great masses of which our globe is composed. If 
our sole object in the study of rocks were a knowledge of . 
their mineralogical composition, such an arrangement would 
doubtless be the best But the main end of that study is to 
investigate their proportions, their gradations, their analogies^ 
their mUtiml dependence or connexion, their oi:der of succession 
and disposition— in short, their general relations of all kinds, 
to each other and to that structure which forms the object and 
business of geology: And this, as it appears to us, can only 
be attained by a classification founded on a geological oasis* 
Such a classification has, for its foundation, the most extensive 

affinities and the most important characters of the objects to be 
arranged ; and it thus in some measure resembles a classification 
of plants, according to their natural orders. While it instructs 
us in the history of rocks as constituent parts of the earth, it 
does not exclude their history as mineral compounds: sineb ^ 
wc are enabled to combine with the former the most minute sub- i 

divisions of varieties; and at thb same time have It in our power 
to separate the accidental and unimportant from the constant 
and essential. It also appears to us that it affords equal facility 
for reference as a mineralogical arrangement, by the very sim- 
ple expedient of brief synoptic tables ; thus combining their 
greater and their lesser analogies; their order in nature with 
their mineralogical affinities. 

It cannot however be denied, that the objections to such a 
system of arrangement are both numerous and weighty ; and it 
is only by comparing these with the advantages now stated that 
we can be guided in our choice. 

The most formidable objection is the imperfect knowledge 
which we at present possess of the true order of rocks in nature* 
Whatever system therefore we adopt as the basis of such an 
aiTangement, must confesscdJj^ be ijnperfect. But it may still 
be such as to be capable of perfection ; and it offers a basis not 
only susceptible of correction, but gradually increasing in cor- 
rectness; since every step adds someth itig to the mass of facts 
on which it is founded* 

It must also be admitted, that a geological arrangement can- 
not be logically correct ; since it cannot be fbundedon one sim- 
ple and consistent principle. While the larger divisions are 
derived from the general order which rocks hold in nature, the ^ 
smaller are necessarily founded on mineralogical characters^ 

fSa&i/tctttion ef Mocls^ 

4 ^ 

also follows this very dbvious inconvenience, or ratheir 
'irrcgulajsty, namely, tSat, as the latter are subject to the form- 
the same mineral compound may occur, as it in fact some- 
times^ does, in more than one of the larger or geological divi- 
sions! This defect appears at present irremediable; but, such 
as it is, it must be examined, like the system itself, not on logi- 
cal principles, but on the principle of utility. 

In tb cither departments of nature, the objects are, in gene- 
ral, definite, constant, and connected by simple and invariable 
relations. A rigid adherence to an adopted system of arrange- 
ment thus becomes as useful as it is easy. It is the utility, in 
fact, rather ihan the consistency^ of any such system, which 
constitutes its merit, and in transferring to another class of ob- 
jfsets those rules to which, from their nature^ they are not a- 
nienable, we mistake the end for the means. This is to be an- 
xious about words, and negligent of things. An arrangement of 
rocks ought in fact to lie considered as a branch of ^ological 
science, and a history of their natural affinities, as far as that is 
practicable. To the elucidation of that science, all minor con- 
siderations ought to be rendered subservient; even at the risk 
J&^some inconsistencies of order, or the sacrifice of logical 
/forms. Our first object should be to select that order of ar- 
fnngemenf which is most useful ; if an unexceptionable regu- 
larity could be superadded to utility, such a system would b© 
perfect ; but u precision wliich tenas to no useful purpose is 
mere piece of pedantry and delusion. 

We are by no means inclined to suppress the objections to a 
geological arrangement; on the contrary we are anxious to' 
point them out, as they must be known before they can be re- 
medied : and wc have therefore studied to add to those which 
Brongniart has suggested. The number and value of these ob- 
jections will perhaps be rendered most apparent by examining 
the conditions required for a perfect geological arrangement 
and by noting where these are defective. 

In Uic first place, the order of every rock in nature ought to 
, be known ; and, to render such a system of arrangement per- 
•fect, it ought also to be constant. Not only should every rock 
be constant in its geological relations, but its mineral charac- 
ters slK)uld be definite and invariable. Further, it would be 
^r^quisite that under every principal substance^ whether it be 
called genus or species, a distinct set of varieties should be 
found, and under those onlj^ • 

.But, unfortunately, no constant and definite order of succession 
aikong rocks has yet been discovered: and it is indeed n6w^ 
e£^ain, that no order can be assigned which is not subject to an- " 

4B Clasiifkation of Hockf. A&lf 

mcrous exceptions^ both in the larger features, and in the 
details. Besides this, individual ift>ckfr arc subject tojfrcquent t 
changes of their mineral ogical characters; often passing into 
each other by imperceptible gradations s an objection, however^ 
which was already noticed as miliuiting against a mineralOgicai 
arranj^ment. It is, lastly, a cause of great inconvenience, that 
certain rocks, resembling each other in composition, are some- 
times found in situations far remote in geological conijcxion. 

We might have dwelt in greater detail on these defects, and 
illustrated them by examples, but our limits do not admit of it ; 
while to the geological reader, lor wlioni alone such details could 
have any interest, it can scardely be ihoiiglit necessary. How- 
ever serious they may be consid(Tcd, and however they may de- 
tract from the regularity or perfection of a geologUial arrange- 
ment, they do not destroy its utility. Many of the defects ad- 
mit of a remedy, by adopting some repetitions, and by making 
some small sacrifices to order : trivial inconveniences, which still 
leave the classification in a great degree equally useiiil for prac 
tical purposes. 

Having thus acknowledged the defects of a Geological chisst 
fication of rocks, as they nave struck us, it is a justice due in 
Brongniart, and to others who arc the advocates of a MintAti- • 
logical arrangement, to state their objections also; to most, k 
not all of which, we think we can make satisfactory replies, if 
indeed some of them have not already been anlicipaleu in the 
preceding remarks. 

It is considered an olncction, that the simple and compound 
.rocks are included in the same arrangement; tlic description 
of the former being superfluous, as they have already been iomul 
in the mineralogical system. But we, on the cotitrarj^^, consider 
t})is as an advantage ; as the geological relations of these rocks 
are fretjuently the same, and as they often pass imperceptibly 
into each other. Even admitting the propriety of describing 
the simple rocks in a system of mineralogy, great inconvenience 
must follow from omitting them in a classification of rocks ; from 
Causes too obvious to require mention. 

In some instances in nature, the same rock occurs in two dis- ' 
tinct geological positions, as we have aJreatly noticed ; and it 
is tlierefore considered as an objection that it vould appear in 
two places in a geological arrangement. Tlie inconvenience, such 
as it is, np[)ears to us very trilling, and indeed admits of an easy 
remedy by some method of reference. But w'e even consider 
the arrangement as advantageous in this case ; since it is an im- 
portant part of the geological history of a rock, to know tbat)it 
occurs under different positions and in different associations. \ 


Ciim^ion of Koeks. 

; . a leolo^cid amnfenent !a hjppo- 

itrid difSoiIt^^ iijpplication. Every day dtminisfaeB the 
feliditgroF *dii« 0l9«5tion ; and it will cea!^ altogether whenever 
tfae^denee AaU ee|>erfected. Bitt it may be k*t.>rted da 
idle otbe^hmdf that if the rival system i» free from hypothesis, 
k is only because it labours under the mhch greater defect of 
exclbdi^tbe natural affinides of rocks, imd is &us nearly use^ 
less for tM pulses of science. 

The last ol^^ion which appears to possess any weight, is, 
that different mmeral^^mpounds are sometimes enumerated 
under one name, aiid the same compounds under different 
names. This, certainly is an evil by no * means irremediable ; 
^ut is a .quosjjon how far, in the present state of the sci* 
ence, it Admits of a remedy withi>ut introducing still greater 
inconveniences. It involves the diHicuIt question of a nomen* 
clature; a difficulty from which the mineraloirical method 
is not exempt, and iraich, if we are to judge from Brongniart’s 
attempt, it has bv no means overcome. In a nomonriaiure 
merely mineralogtCal, the multiplication of names could pro* 
^uce no great inconvenience beyond that arising iVom their 
^Wfmbers. As m mineralogy, it would merely serve to regulate 
^and describe a cabinet of specimens. A nomenclature i’ouoded 
on mineralogical characters is indeed perhaps necessarily mi- 
nute ; but the numerous combinations or minerals, and the end* 
less varieties of aspect thus presented, render it impossible to 
apply distinct names to all. So that, even in this respect^ a 
mineralogical arrangement is almost unavoidably imperrect; to 
«ay nothing of the new terms w!)ic}i would be required to ren- 
der it even tolerably complete, and wliich are always productive 
of inconvenience. 

But as the study of rocks, according to the view which we 
have taken of tihis question, is priHcipally required for the pur- 
poses of Geology, so, Jt appears to us, the nomenclature should 
as far as possible be rendered subservient to that end. It is in 
the first place obvious, that, for the pui*poses of geological de« 
acription, general terms are absolutely requir6d. Otherwise, 
as numerous substances occur under one general relation, un* 
avoidable confusion, as well as tedious details, would be the in- 
M^vitable consequence. These general terms should also be found- 
ed on the gfcological relations; or should be such at least as are 
likely, from their former application, to convey a true notion of 
the positions and analogies of the rocks in question. With re* 
cara to the inferior terms required for the details of varieties 

inferior divisions of any kind, it seems indifFerent from what 
^V0L.XXX1V. HO. 67. U 


C 7 as$fficatim of Moch» 

sources they am drawn ; provided not trespass 
blinhed assaeijadonss nor interfere with the leading bbjf.i^ 
noniendatiir^ As, in the study of natural objects. It is ni^es^ 
sarj' to combine accuracy in tfee details with cbmpreheusive^e-’ 
neral vkiws, so, in any system of nomenclature, this leading 
and important object ehould be Ic^t in sight. The mirnitise of 
arrittigernent, and the trivial di^ils of a highly refined oomeh- 
dature, are often injurious by diverting the attention from the 
jjreater and more important relations of the ofcjccts under con- 
i^deration. It may sometimes even Ibllow, that analogies which 
are only apparent, and dependent on the construction of the 
catalogue, or the nature *01 the names, may be transferred to 
the more important portions of the substai^ccs, and thus con- 
vey prejudices or false views relating to the structure ot tlie * 

To render a geological system of arrangement complete, its 
advocates should be allowed the privilege which Brongniart has 
in his Essay assumed ; namely, that of framing terms adapted to 
the wants of their system. More than this indeed is perhaps 
required; as, to the existing imperfect nomenclature may easily 
be traced many of the defects which appear, on a siiperfickl 
view, to result from the arrangement. As, in the revolutions 
of Chemistry, it has been found necessary repeatedly to reform 
the nomenclature; so, in tlie progress of Geology, it may here- 
after be found equally requisite to make important changes in 
the nomenclature of rocks. The present nomenclature origi- 
nated in a period of ignorance, and it has been but partially 
modified through one of comparative knowledge. Rocks have 
been named, sometimes from their structure, sometimes from 
their composition, sf)metimes from their geological positions ; 
while many are still denoted by ancient and unmeaning terms, 
which are not perhaps the worst with which the catalogue ia 
deformed. To adopt terms derived from so many sources, and 
to preserve the consistency of a catal<^ue or an arrangement, is 
impossible; nor is it easy to make a partial selection, or useful 
alterations, without great inconveniences. In the present state 
of tlic science, it would be a rash experiment to reform tlie 
nomenclature altogether, as the science is not ready for such a 
reform. To supersede the use of terms long associated with all^ 
our ide^ is at ell times a proceeding which nothing can justify 
but the most decided advantages, and ihemost absolute certain- 
ty that we are proceeding on a correct basis. We consider it far, 
to submit to the defects as they now stand, than to incur’i 
the risk of others, certainly for worse; and would much rather! 
sjiflMiunt both repetitions an J circumlocutions, than encounter 

Ciass^ation of Rocks. 


in¥arifibly results from the ambigaotw use, and. 
i^quem changes of terms^ The attempts of the advocates 
of a^Mincratogicai classiftcation to introduce new terms, have 
not been attended with success? although Jess productive of in- 
convenience, and flowing from high authorities. To lUMke such 
an Attempt in *%geological system of arrangement would demand 
botli aufliority and advantages proportioned to the greater in- 
convenience's by which it would ho attended. 

In examining the present nomenclature for the puqoose of 
seeing more distinctly in wluit manner it interferes} with the con- 
sistency of « geological arrangement, it will immediately be 
seen, that the most promiiKiit faiih is the adoption of a double 
of nomenclature. Rocks are thus, as we already re- 
marked, named, sometimes from their nature or their composi- 
tion, — sometimes from position, or their geological charac- 

ter; while that inconvenience is increased in many instances by 
the capricious mode in which either of those principles is adopt- 
ed. Ati example illustrate our nueaning. There is often 
V no difference between the argillaceous schists of the primary, 

^ those of the secondary strata; and there is often a perfect 
Resemblance between certain granitic compounds occurring ia 
ihe primary rocks, and in the traps i)f the latest origin. But 
in the first case, from difference of position merely, these rocks 
ore called respectively clay slate and slate cla\, or shale; while 
the common term, greenstone or .sy«*niie, is applied to two 
rocks, differing most widely in their geological positions. We 
need scarcely licre notice the greater confu-ton rinsing from an 
application of the tenn greenstone to sinitiflod and to unstratified 
rocks; as this is rather one of the collateral evils which arise 
from neglect, from systems or from ignorance. It appears most 
important to preserve consistency in this respect: For other- 
wise this practice may bo made to serve the-purpose of almost 
any hypothesis. The relative position and geological nature of 
a rock may thus be determined from its minci*al composition; 

. and that again from its geological position, and the system made 
* quite smooth and easy by a vicious reasoning in a circle. To 
enumerate the cases where this convenient process has been ad- 
opted, would be to extend those remarks beyond the space we 
“^an spare for them; hut geologists will be at no loss to recal 
them to their recollection. It is time indeed to draw to a close ; 
and in so doing we shall bai'eiy observt^ that, in the present 

S tate of things, there seems no remedy for the evils arising out 
ff this ambiguity, but that of accompanying any geological ar- 
>j^tgement of rocks that may IterealUT be adopted, by adequate 
definitions, or explanations of their geological connexions, and 


S9 dassi/calion of Jbeil* Auf ^ 

of die %iews of the author respeedng the places ih^ oe* ' 
cupy in the structure of the earthy and the analogies by whid!* 
th^ are mutually related. ^ 

Having thus stated the arguments and objections that seem 
of chief importance in this dimute^ and, as we trust, shown sii& 
ficient cause for preferring tne geological method of arrnb^ 
jnent, we shall mve a brief hhetm of the classifications of uie 
four authors in me Essay under review* The disadvantages 
a mineralogical arrangement, for the purposes of geological 
science, will thus become practically apparent on the one hand ; 
although, on the other, it will be seen that the two last authors, 
treading in the antiouated steps of their master, instead of fol* 
lowing the path of mture, have left us nothing butdielidbdjW 
of a hypothelical classification. 

I'he superiority of Brongniart’s work, no less than the repu* 
tation df its author, induces us to give his dassification com- 
plete, but in the briefest abstract which we can make. The o- 
tbers must be passed over more hastily* We have not room 
to indulge in many remarks, nor will they be necessary to tb^ 

S MiIogical reader : a few will sufBce to point out ihe places fry 
e more prominent defects. We shall translate the foreign * 
tenns that maybe required into the synonimes most in use ; but 
we have too litde confidence in the eventual adoption of the au- 
thor’s neology, to think it necessary to give an English physiog- 
nomy to the Gallicized Greek compounds in which he deals* 
The brief form into which this arrangement is here condensed, 
will render its defects much more apparent than they are in the 

Class I. Crtstallizsd Rocks. (Isomeris.) 

Genus ]jf. FeUpathic^ 

Sp* 2. Granite, - common granite, with mica only. 

2. Frotogine, the same, containing steatite, talc, or chlorite. 

3. Pegmatite, - graphic granite. 

4. Mimose, a compound of pyroxene and felspar. 

Genus 2(/. AmphtMse* 

Sp< L Syenite, -granite containing hornblende— hornblende 
schist containing felspar, &c. 

2. Diabase, - greenstone— ^hornblende schist containing fel> * 
spar— gremitone porphyry— orbicular gran- 
ite of Corsica* 

5. Hemithrene,- a hornblende rode containing carbonat of limCi 
Class IL CRYstALLizEo Rocks. ( Amisomerss.) 

Gentts 1st. fFiih a base ^ U^Une Quartsu 
Sp. 1. Hyalomicte,- quartz and mica— probably a variety of quartz 

(SmificaHcn tf Mocks. SS 

Genm 9d. With a base Mica. 

thb division contains a very impetfisct list of 

SchisV* one of the enumerated varieties is a gnriss. 
•Genus 3d. With a base Sch^. (C/oy date.) 

Fhyllade, » includes many varieties of ai^illaccous schist--* 
« micaceous^ or containing imbedded minerals, 

and even bituminous marl date — it appears 
also to contain a variety of gndbs, and some 

2. Calschiste, - a mixture of day slate and carbonat of lime. 
Genus 4ttL Base of Talc. 

H%ilidhH9liaschiste, • includes talc slate and chlorite slate^ together 
' with many other compound substances. 

Gmu 6ih. Base of Serpentine. 

Sp. 1* Ophiolite, - serpentines which contain imbedded minerals. 

We cannot hdp remarking, that as well in this case as that 
of the ii^yllade, we have a striking example of tlie great in-, 
.^ijbonvenience of a q^stem which separates the simple trom the' 
I^^RRnpound rocks; and from a circumstance so unimportant, in 
\the case of serpentine, as its occasionally containing chromat of 
iron, or garnets. 

Genus 6th. Base of Carbonat of Lime. 

Sp. 1 . Cipolino, - limestone containing mica. 

2. Oficalce, - limestone containing seqientine, &c» 

3. Calciphyre, - limestone containing various imbedded minerals. 

We cannot see that any of these incidental varieties have a 
claim to the title of species ; nor is the division even consistent 
witli itself; os the presence of garnet, hornblende, or augit, 
might as well confer on the varieties of tlie Sp. the rank of 
separate species^ 

Genus 7* Ban ^ Corninenne. (this is v^ indefinite.) 

8p. 1* Variolitc, - certain amygdaloids. 

2. Vakitc, other amygdaloids. 

Genus 8. Base ^ Amphibdte. 

. $p. I . Amphibolite,*- a sweeping term, which comprises many diftr* 
^ < ent rocks, in which either hornblende or 

actinolite enter as ingredients. 

2. Bosanite, - this also appears intended to comprise every 
rack which has a base of basalt. 

Trappite, m roches de trapp— we quote the author in the 
original,' as we can form no definite idea of 
this spedes ; and ai^ fittlc, wq may add, ef 
the former^ 


Clasufictition iff 

4v Mdaphyre, » certain varieties of dark-coloured 

- GenuB 9. Base of Amphibolic Petrosilex* 7 "^ ’ ^ f 
This base is not very intelii^ibie-^is it a basalt or a dark clinkstone? 

Sp* 1. Porphyry, - the last species has a base of ‘ amnhibole pe« 
^Osilicexix« * and in these varieties the base 
IS * petrosaiex amp^iboleux ; * — a distiaCiKon 
too redued *br our stale of information. 

% Ophite, green porphyry — surely no more than a variety 

of the last species. 

3 . Amy^daloidc, -including the varioutcs of Durance, and the 

orhicu-ar porphy ry of L'ol^ica— oit also com- 
prises some more porphyries, we do not see 
why. • 

4. Eupliotide, - Verde <li Corsica. 

Geaus 10. Base of Petrodlexy or of Granular Felspar* 

Wc do not comprehend how these two substances can mem the 
Bume thing. 

fip* i* EuritOi - including whitestone (weiss-stein), clinkstone, , 
some cltnksl one porphy ries (agaiii)iand doeta«| ' 
trap porphyries— a very strange associatidir* * \ 
2. Leptinite, - more weisS'Stoin— nnd apparently some gra*/ 
nites — (hornfeis. ) 

S. Trachyte, - more porphyries with base of petrosilex. 

We confess that all this appears to us very disorderly. 

Genus i 1 . Base of Afgilolite* 

S/1.1. Argilophyrc,- clay stone porphyry. 

2 * Domite, - claystone witJi mica. 

Genus 1 2. Base Pitckstone or Obsidian^ 

Surely so excellent a mineralogist does not mean to confound 
these two substances. 

fy, 1. ^tigmite, - pitchstone or obsidian porphyry. 

Genm 1 3. Base indetermtiate* 

Sp* 1. Lava, - lavas and scorise simple and compound— a very 
short process for disposing of the volcanic 

Class III. Aocai^ATE Rock& 

Genus I* Cemented, 

pp, h Fsummite/ - appears to contain quafitz rocks, micaceous sand^. 

stones, graywack^s, and graywackg schists; 
and is evidently, even in a mineralogicql ^ 
' view, very injumciously contrived. 

Claisifictition of Rpch, 55 

Gatus 2. Imbedded* 

Sp*J* Mimofyhyre^-* more sandstones and graywackes. 

*2. Psefite, * some of the oid red sandstones. 

3. Pohdingue, - this appears to odmprise a great variety of 

rocks — some of them local, and others ap- 
^ jpertaining to the former. 

4. Breccici ^ these are to be distinguished by the angularity 

of the iragments. 

It is abuyclantly evident that this arrangement is totally un- 
fit for the purposes of geological description ; but it is unneces- 
out the causes, since they must be obvious tO the 
most igno)*ant of our readers. • The respect which we entertain 
for the author prevents us from noticing more of its defects as a 
mineralogical arrangement. We cannot either see the neces- 
sity or the propriety of the Neology which he has thought fit to 
adopt; but it is tumecessary to say more on the subject, as this 
system seems to have attracted little attention, though published 
In the Annales de Cbimic, (from which work w«r have taken 
®Br abstract), as long ago as the year 1813. 

\ The author next in the order of the Essays is De la Metherie ; 
and his arrangement is preceded by a theory, which, as we do 
not very well understand it, we shall not attempt to analyze. 

His system docs not admit of a brief analysis, like the former; 
and moreover it is not deserving of one. We shall content 
ourselves therefore with a mere sketch of his plan. 

It consists of three grand divisions ; the aggregate crystal- 
lized, imbedded, and agglutinated. The two latter are again 
divided into primary, secondary, alluvial, and volcanic. 

Under the First Division are twelve subdivisions— the quartz- 
ose, — argillaceous. — magnesian, — calcareous, — barytic, — stron- 
tianic, — zirconic, — ^glucinic, — gadolinic, — sulfurous, — combus- 
tible, — and meiallic : all of these being supposed to form so 
many classes of aggregate rocks ; a very latitudinarian use cer- 
tainly of that term^ In some of tliese subdivisions are to be 
found, as might be expected, the well known rocks, such as 
granite, gneiss, &c. in all the diversity of species and varie- 
iities; capriciously enough divided, but all apparently describ- 
ed from actual specimens. This is all very well; but they are 
accompanied by others, which are. either accidental mixtures 
of minerals, and not rocks at all, or, what is worse, are purely 
‘imaginary. From this determination to fill up a visionary plan, 
we have such rocks, for example, as barytes and floor spar, 
rtlrontian and galena^ emerald and granite, sulphur and 


Cku^leation ^ Bodla* 

sum, anthracite and granit^ gold and qnattz, and^jn prtiu 
This, we most say, is egresious trifling. ^ 

In the Second l)ivision there are the same twelve subdivisions. 

But here, as might be expected from thus hunting down*his 
system, ^e author gets into much greater absurdities,' attended 
by np small confoaon. Ihe paste of the quartzose subdi^on 
may be either quartzose, or sigiUaceous, or magnesian; 
caraousjorbarytic. OrdiseitinaybeKmalic,^ Petrosiliocous, 
or Tefnnie, or LeUcosUc, or C^lutic, or Variolitic, or Cor* 
Bean, or a compound of many rocks. The imbedded substance 
may also consist of any siliceous mineral. So mucl^ for the fe> 
hdfy of this arrangement; to say nothing of these unnecessaiy 
terms, each of which would require a deflnidon 
Let us see the result^-the way in which all this order is appura 
to practice. 

Under the Quartzose subdivision stands first the genus Por- 
phyry, containing eleven spedes bendes varieties: to which 
are added the Decomposed porphyiies, oontaasing, among o^ear 
inatters, tlie claystone porphyiy of Weni«', whi^ is ccrtainlv 
not a deroiqposed rock. Kext comes the genus Amygdaloid' 
comprising however but two of the numemns varieties of this 
snomfication; namely, those which cegntmn agates, and thoser 
srfaicb contain calcareous mar. The remainder appear to have 
bemr forgotten. The third genus is Variolite; containing five 
species, of which one is the orbicular granite of Corsica ; an- 
other, day slate, with occasional crystals of hornblende; another, 
mica slate, with similar ciystals. This may be an arrangement 
in words, but it is surely nothing more. In the fourth genus 
we find amprgdaloidal porphyiies, with an impcifisct enumera- 
tion of varieties und^ die name of Species. 

After diis follows a sort of cpisomc division, conasting of 
Forphyroids of primary formation — rocks which do not contain 
fids^. Such are, quartz and toarmalin, quartz and garnet^ 
quartz and titanite, argillaceous schist mid hornblende (me se- 
emid time^ the same and mica, the same and octoedial iron. 

mica schist and gamet, mica schist and hornblende (again), 
talc end bitterqiar, steatite and tounnalin, chlorite schist and 
tourmalin, seq^tine and oxidulous iron; together with many 
other similar compounds, all formally diqilayed under the re«.M 
quisite subdivision f^enera, spoides, and variedes. If this be 
4Mb arrangement, we know riot that any other division than For* 
|ihyroids would have been required ; as it mi^t, on the ssma 
torindplu, comprise every compoimd fock; and many things 

After dl this (and we have been so cjcuifiised with Divisictfr . 

^ Itodcu 9! 

and Aftt the hole plan of the arraacieinent 

n8l|r our eyes), comes a First Section on thelSreocias cf 
primary formation j a second on Poudinmes of the same naF* 
turl^ and a third on Grits; — which ends this strange Vfes&i^ 
fill dassification. Each of these ccmtain^ of course, the ft* 

vqiirite twelve subdivisions dready enumerated ; although the 
autfinNhas been mistily putaled to fill them, if we may judge 
by such ingredients as the followingo-a strontianic breoda, a 
zirconic breccia, a metallic breccia, and so forth. To be snrsi, 

he has the pandour to acknowledge that some of thesc^ such aa 
a breccia composed of ‘ yttria cemented by yttria, or gsdolinie 
yttria,* has never yet been found; and, we may aad, never 

"^^^^uHns fruitless to examine further into this scene of confii* 

sion, which, under all the parade of logical arrangement, de^ 
scribes imaginary substances, and omits existing ones ; confua* 
ingpretty nearly all ^e rest in such a manner as almost to del^ 
the powers of analysis. Pinkerton was at least amusing. 

The arrongmnent of l^gnior Tondi bang a geological oh^ 
(lit is necessarv to give a somewhat fuller account ^of it than of 
last ; and to enumerate die geological distinctions on whidi 
she thinks prqpor to found it. 

He divides his rocks into masses, beds, transition rocks, stra> 
tilled rocks (floetz), alluvial, and volcanic, substances. This 
distinction is Wernerian, and to a certain d^rce theoretical; 
and, as will be seen, it is productive of no smw confusion. 

The first class, that or the massive rocki^ consists <mly of 
granite (that containing mica), which is exclusively calM 

The next, consisdng of bedded roci)i% contains secondary 
sranite (how is this ascertained ?) as the first cpecies. Subor- 
dinate to this are, quartz rewk, — graphic graDite^---mica,<~*CQiil» 
pact felspar, — and sotokstein. Now, quartz ro^ is found in e- 
normous str^ and is assuredly not suWduiate to any granite; 
graidiic granite again is always found in veins; compact felqmr 
occurs either in vdnsor large nodular masses; and mica is not a 
x<odc at all. Here therefore is a geolo^cal arrangementf if it 
can be called such, deficient in the first and essential principia 
•4^ imlagicnl knowledge. 

The second qpecies m this dass is weiss-stdn, whidi mi^ht 
with more propriety have been placed under the versatile term 
subordinate; like many <Hhen whidi, with less propriety, J^ve 
’’found tbdr wiy iiuo this convenient repontoo^ of Igmwance. 
Gneiss and Syenite are made subordinate to this qiecies; buf^ 
^Immediately after, gneiM constitutes a spedes of itsw; haring 

^ dat^Jlc^on <tf Bocks. ^ 

ns suliordinate it5 hornblende schist, which isj 

connected with-it in any way, and lepidoUte, which is f^ot a rodc<, 

but a rare and accidentai minem!« ' '* 

Mica achist forms the fourth species, with fluor spar (which 
also is not n nnok) subordinate ; and then foifows a lotig list of 
rocks and minerals subordinafo 'both to gneiss and mica mMh, 

aueh as, porphyry, garnet, midacconi greenstone, anthracite oxb 
dulcHis iron, &c. ; and this again 'is followed by substanci^ sub* 
ordinate to mica schist only ; comprising gypsum, di^hene, oxi- 
duidus iron, and several <Hhcr^ metallic minerals. Argillaceous 
schist (Thoreschiefer) then comes in, we know not well in what 
capacity, and that is follow^ed by another liht of rocks sulmrdi- 
nate to granite, gneiss, and clayslate. T(ic»e arc, - 

greenstone porphyry, variolites, the orbicular Corsican granite, 
and green porphyry’. This is again followed by another list 
subordinate to gneiss, mica schist, and ckyslatc, includmginag- 
ncsian limestone, dolomite, compact talc, talc schist, and py- 
rites. Many other subordinations follow, such as those which 
rank under gneiss and clayslate, granite and clayslate, mica^ 
slate and clayslate, and clayslate alone^ } 

This system of perpetual siibordinatfon in all the modes of^ 
refinement, seciUvS indeed a favourite part of the author’s plan- < 
Use very geological knowledge which it pretends to impart, is 
more tlmn questionable; but it Is independently of this evi- 
dent, that, in thus constructing his classification, he has intro- 
duced iiiextricjjble confusion, and entirely mistaken the object 
of a geological arrangement. His method is moreover operose, 
as wx 41 as obscure; since a brief tabular and subsidiary view of 
the various alternations of his rocks would have conveycxl all 
this knowletlge in a far more intelligible form, 

Tim species wdiich follow’ mica schist, as far as we can msiikc 
thorn out in this confused system of tabulation, are, rock, 

primary limestone, magnesian limestone, siliceous schist, ser- 
j>entine (which, by the by, is a massive and not a bedded rock). 

and atnygdaioidai greenstone. Some ot these have also theiir 
satellites or subordinate rocks ; and the species porphyry con- 
tains further 16 varieties, besides subvarieties ; among which are^ 
such substances as peittl^tone, obsidian, semiopal, breccia and 
tufo. (apparently both of tlie trap formation), and lastly syenite* " 
an arrangement, w’c will venture to Say, which is neither:^ 
mineralogical nor geological, nor even coniinotily logical. ' 

. The transition class contains, as might be expect, argll^ 
jQeous schist, greenstone, porphyries, amygdaioidis^sUiceoas 


dmsytcatim of JRoch. 

jtonc; tesides granite, sandstone, syenite^ itws^e 
rnMP^spI^ the usioal system of subordinate avrangem^pt^ being 
wrtfaer pursued. ^But we will not dwell on this class, as it adds 
to the confusion of tits arrangement the additional ol)scurity 
rising frtan the tb^^etical assumption on which it ik foitndea* . 

' The fourth dasa^^mprises theiloetz strata, of the Wernerian 
scRtSii^ and the arrangement, which appear? contain nothing 
very new, is as follows. Conglomerate, old^rfed siimdstone, bi- 
tuniinious marl slate, marl, mountain limeston^VicJo^a limestone 
(lias), amygdaloidal limestone, gypsum, salt, Variegated sand- 
stone, 2d gypsum, shell limestone, calamine !, 4t}i.>|imestoue, 
5d gypsum, sandstone, ch dk. We will not enter into the de- 
tail^^he subordinate substfinces. As to the geological ar- 
"KBR^Snwm, it wmuld not be within the limits of our plan to show 
its irrcdrrectness ; and it has inoreovtT been often betbre the pub- 
lic in tKe hands of die sewum pecus * who are content to live 
in a ‘ damnable adherence unto authority. * 

Wc are somewhat pu/zlod about the coal formation, as the 
author no doubt has himself been. It appears to Ibrm a kind 
fbf supplement in this cla^^, and conuiiiii^, if wc understand the 
s^rangement aright, three principnl spf?cies of coal, with varie- 
^ Jies, but without <4ub<>rdinate cjarthy straUi, and followed by fif- 
teen more species of rock, inciu<Ung, among vaidous shales and 
sandstones, cinn:d)ar. hornstone, clay ironstone, iithoniaya, marl, 
porphyry, aiul Tripole. Surely this is not the arrangement of 
any seri( s in nature. 

The ‘ floetz traj>’ rocks are called independent stratified; 
«o thfit it is ]3retty plain that our author's acquaintance with 
them is not of a personal naiure. They appear also, to have 
been of a very reoelliou^ dl^p^)silion, since they form another 
supplement in this class ; and, as might be expected, they com- 

I ivise basalt, greenstone, diukstone, . porphyry, wacko, amygda- 
Old, and sinne oilier nialteis. They are further folhnved by 
another division of racks which, though they belong to this, oc- 
cur also in other, formations. These are pitchstone, obsidian, 
;semiopal, sandstone, sand, shale, clay, compact limestone, inarl^ 
<clay ironstone, chronmt ol iron, anthracite, wood coal, and jet. 
This is at least siifliciently con&ised ; nor, us it appears to u% 
the author to liave meditated his subject, or to havw 

med for himsf^Pbiy definite idea of liis own views iuthepro- 
inulgation of tj[pi^rrangoinent. He has a rival, to be sure, in 
our own languiage, who, in this respect, will compete with him 
.^or the leaden crown. 

, an*angement of Signior Tondi U terminated by the allu- 
volcanic, and pseudo-volcauic, rocks. We might here 

CkudJBctttien Hoeks, 

' W 

make further remarks on some of this autbor^s peeaCarid^l^ic^ 
as ttuat of placing * acoue termaii ’ among the^ p^ud^'volteiill^ 
Todcs, in company with porcelain jasper ; but it is unnecessary i 
fcr the object which we imd in view^ to indulge in minute ciiti- 
cism* We have fulfilled a duty in thus far analy^g the only lite« 
sally complete classification of rocks on a geologtcaf system wiu^ 
Ims come beibre us ; and, in so doing, are sensible that w- «nay 
be supposed to have put arms into the bands of tbose wl^ may 
difier with us on the expediency of this method of arrangement* 
But an example of bad execution is no proof that me me* 
shod is erroneous; mid it must be very evident, that the 
€xecttti<m of any such arrang^ent must be materially mo* 
dified by the dinereiit views which, in the presen^jeOfigQ^jgd ^ 
state of geological thcoiy, may be entertained by difierent pmr* 
sons* But whatever system a writer may be induced to adopts 
be should at any rate come to this task with all the geological 
inibiination of his day ; and, whatever plan he may chuse, ha 
is bound to be oonristent and dear in its execution, and more* 
ever to put his readers in possession of the theoretical and 

f eneral base mi which bis classification is founded* Otberwiae^t 
e docs not present in his failure an armament against the utill^ 
tj of the system ; but against his own Knowledge, cxr industry^ . 
or habits of clear thinking and acenrate ^angement* 

Of the arrangement of Brochant it is unnecessary to say 
mmeh, as it is merely a sketch of the well known Werneiiiao 
Geognosy, and is not accompanied, like the former Essays, by 
any details of the species or varieties* We have not here room 
Id investigate the principles of this system, even if we were so 
inclined. It is unnecessary in fact to take any further notice of 
an author who, like some of our own, seems merely the gutter* 
pipe through which the Geognosy of Freyberg has floored into 
the mouths of those who have had no access to the divine spring 

But we must draw this article to a conctusion, and must there* 
fore omit all mention of the systems of Volcanic mcks, widl 
whidi this litde coniplladon b terminated : being the more in* 
dined so to do, inasmuch as we are but too senribie that we 
could throw no usefiil light on a sub^t which requires a dm* 
TOUgh review by some one intimately acqudoted, not with ik 
yoicEano alone, but with ail the vcdcanoes globe% 

1 *^ 



pianjbr a Commutation of Tithes* 
London, 1819« 


0 |UB riders must not expect too much from Ae title of l3^ 
^Si^rticle* We have no intention of entering on die vexaim 
questio of the expediency or inexpediency of making a publie 
provision for the support of the Chimh. IV^e are quite satisfied 
with die manner in which the principle of this question has been 
decided in England ; but our approbation extends no farther. 
Instead of*a^eeing with those wiio consider tithes as the ba^ 
means by which such a provision may be made, we considw 
""tllHiPVRlRe very worst that could have been devised : And it 
appears to us, that the adoption of any measure which, at the 
same dine that it secured the just rights of the clergy, ^ouid 
put an end to the levying of tithes, would be productive of die 
greater national benefit. The subject of commutation is 
mssedly one of no common importance, both as it affects the 
j lintmrastSj.^«the l^tabUshment and the country. At the pre-> 
period, too, k has a peculiar claim on die public attentioiu 
^Tithes have hitherto been considered as falling exclusively on 
^the landlords and occupiers of the soil ; and the existence of 
this burd^ is now urged as a 'imlid reason why they dt|Oukl 
be protected from foreign compedtion. We believe we shsm be 
able to show, tliat this opinion is entirely erroneous ; and that 
tithes, however objectionable in other respects, are an equa!^ 
not a partial tax. But, we must beq)eak the indulgence of our 
readers while we state die grounds on which this conclusion rests. 
So mucli, and to so very little purpi>se, has been written on the 
aul:gect of tithes, that it may be safely affirmed there is no palt 
of pdidcat acience so incumbered with error and misapprehend* 
don, or where it is more necessary to recur to first principles. 

If land yielded no surplus to its }>ossessors above the common 
and ordinary profit of the capital employed in its cultivation, it 
is phun, that were a tefUh of the produce set apart (ox the use 
of the derg}', the cultivators would be indemnified (or this saeri<* 
fice by an equivalent increase on the price of the remarmng 
jjrtme^enths* The level of profit may be temporarily, but S 
\ oannot be permanendy elevated or depressed in any particular 
branch of industry: And as there can be no reason why the 
agriculturists should content themselves with a reduced rate of 
•profit, when idl other employments are yielding a higlier rate, as 
^ aooii as tithes were impeded they would set about transferring a 
portion of their stock to some more lucrative business; and dils 
transference would be continued until the diminution of supply 

S# Tithes. 

had ndeed prkcs to their proper level, ^nd resioredJl^^i^tpHy: 
brlum of profiu In such a .state of lith^ woui^jp 

disputably operate prccLst ly as an equivalent addition to dtne 
price of ii^w protluce. But after various qualities of^soil have 
been "btought under cultivation, and rents have, in conse^ 
quencc'^ been pretty generally introduced, it is notsoet»^y io 
trace their ultimate incidence and effect. Hicy then ‘appear 
to occasion rather a diminution of the rent of the landlord, 
than a rise of prices, F^irms which are lithc' free always bring 
a proportionahly higher rent than such as are sii‘.'ji»ct to tliat 
charge; and it is naturally concluded, that, were trthes abo- 
lished, the depressed rents would be raised to the same le- 
vel as the others. For this reason, in an advaTiced 9V/- 

cicty tithes ore not ecmsidcred as incrcasiiig the price of raw 
produce to the consumers ; but as diverting a portion of the. 
reut of the soil, to winch the landlord has no just claim, into the 
pockets of its riithtful owners*, the clergymen and lay- impropria- 
tors. ‘ Taxes on the produce of land, ’ says Dr Smith, ‘ are in re- 
ality taxes upon, rent ; and, though they nrsay be on;jini\|]y advanced^ 
by tlie fanner, are dually paid by the landlord. When a cert^ J * 
portion of the produce is to be paid away for a tax, the farmer ^ 
computes, as well as he can, what the value of this portion, one^' 
year ,^ith anodh.T, is likely to dhioiutit to, and mahes a proportion^ 
nMe '^aiewevt i‘/ ihe tejd xiltich he agrees to pny to the hndhrd. 
There is no faruicr who does iiot compute, beforehand, w’hat the 
Church tithe, which is u land tax of this kind, is, one year w’ith 
another, likely to amount to. * • 

* Suppose, ' says one of the ablest w riters in defence of tithes, 

* tliat the tenth or tithe were to be abolished, ii would not put a far-’ 
thing into the pocket of the farmer. It would be his landlord that' 
would be the gainer, not be. The landlord would immediately ad- 
vance his rent to the full amount of wrhat was used to be paid in? 
tithes, and wmuld tell his teuuiu, that as he now lets his estate tithe- 
free, or in other words lets him the who/e estate, of w^hich he had 
before let him only /rtwp-toM A', he expects an inen ase of rent, not 
only equal to what the clergy claimed, but con dtirrahli^ mote ; for 
farmers need not be told, how niucb more easy thw clergy are lA 
receiving thmr tithes, than those lay-impropnators, or private gen- 
tlemen, who have great tithes in their handa. ' 

"^And such beyond nil d{>ubt arethe geueially received opinions • 
on this subject. That we may be ai)io |>r iperly to jurpre^dato, 
tfaeif accuracy, it is necessary to recr lied, that the exch.Hiige- 
abte^valueof raw produce is not regulated by the expenditure re-1 
qijdred to raise it on ///t' ricAc.v/ lands under cuKivalum, but bj/ 

* Wealtli of Nations, VoJ. 111. p, 274. 


is required to raise it on the poorest * — ^tliat i% on the 
which it is necessary to cultivate, in order to 
dhsiiiin*^^^ sufficient supply of raw produce. Rut it has been 
sho^, that this last quality of land pays no rent ; and, conse- 
quently, that the produce obtained froni it is sold at its tiaiural 
price, or the price which is necessary to cover th^ cost of its pro- 
ductit?*s. including therein the profit of tlie capital employed in 
its culture. However, as this principle is obviously of funda- 
mental importance in tracing the effect of tithes or taxes on raw 
produce, we shall briefly recapitulate the reasoning by which it 
has been established, and endeavoi^r to obviate one or two ob- 
jections which have been stated against it. 

settling of any country abounding in fertile and 
tinaj^qprlatcd land, no rent is ever paid ; atid for this plain 
reason/ that no person will pay a rent Ibr what may be pro- 
cured in unlimited quantities for nothing. It is only after the 
most productive lands have all been brought under cultivation^ 
and when recourse is had to those of an inferior quality, that 
rent begins to be paid by the fanners of those whiclv are supe- 
irtor. Suppose, for example, that, iu a statimary state of socie- 
ty, mone but the best soils are under cuUivution, it is obvious 
^ley could afford no surplus in the shape of rent to tlieir pro- 
prietors : For, if they did afford any such surplus, it would 
be advantageous for the proprietors of tlie soils of the very mjf 
degree of lerlility, and which, in point of productive power,' 
must differ extiviiioly little from the first, to commence cultiva- 
tion ; and as, by the hypothesis, there could be no increased 
demand, the increased supply could not fail to sink prices un- 
til they yielded only the ordinary rate of profit to the proprie- 
tors of the best soils. But, supposing the country to be rapid- 
ly advamhig in wealth and population, and that, to attain suffi- 
cient supplies of' raw produce, it had become necessary to culti- 
vate soils which, in return for the same expenditure as would 

liave produced iOO quarters on the most fertile, yield only 90 
quarters, a rent of 10 quarters would be paid by the occupiers 
‘.of the former; for it is evidently the same'^ thing to a farmer, 
whether he pays a rent of 10 quarters for a piece of land, w'hich, 
with a certain outlay of capital and labour, yields 100 quarters; 
— or farms, witiuuU paying any refit, a piece of land which, 
wftb the sarue outlay, only yields 90 quarters. This extension 
of cultivation might be Indefinitely continued ; and when re- 
course had been had tt> lands which would only yield 80, or 
70 quarters, the rent of the first quality woul^ plainly be e- 
fiUfli to the difference between its produce and that of the last, 
is, to 100—70, or 30 quarters; tlie rent of the second to 

M Tiikeu * ^ Axtg/, 

At differetuse between 90 and 70, or 9fl> quartmii ^ so tni* . 
An increase of rent is not, therefore, as is veiy gepcSwy 
posed, occasioned by improvements in agricultare, or by 
crease in the feitility of the soil. Were none but the mosf fer* • 
tile soils cultivated, no such thing as rent would ever be heard 
o£ It results entirely from the necessity of resorting, as ponu- 
lation increai^ to soils of a decreasing dc^ee of 
therefore varies in its amount inversely as the profit of the capi- 
tal employed in cultivation ; — that is, it increases when the pro- 
of agricultural stock diminish, and diminishes when they 
increase* Profits are at their maximum in colonies^possessed of 
extensive tracts of fertile and uncultivaied land, and gencraUy 
in all situations in whicli no rents are paid ; but it jamno t^b e 
said tliat rents have attained their maximum*, so long as 
yields any surplus in the shape of profit. But whatever maybe 
the rent of the superior soils, the least fertile soils under culti- 
vation never fiay any rent. The price of raw produce must be 
such as will yield the cultivators the common and average rate 
of profit, and indemnify diem for their expenses; and it canno4 
for any considerable peri'Kl, be cither higher or lower. If il. 
were higher, there would be an obvious inducement to 
fresh capital to the bringing of new land under tillage, or to thg 
inprovement of the old land ; and, on the other band, if it 
were lower, there would be an equally powerful inducement to 
witiidraw capital from agriculture, in every case, thereibre, 
—whether ullage be extending or diminishing, — ^the price rf 
that portion of produce which is raised in the least favourable 
circumstances, and which regulafes the price of all the resti is 
its necessary price, the price at which it would be sold if 

rents were altogether unknown ; and is not in the least affected 
by them. 

It has been objected to this account of the nature and causes 
of rent, that it takes feu^ granted that landlords would permit 
farmers to oceiqpy their lands without pej^g But, 

in point of fact, it does no such thing. Ibe price of raw pro- 
duce is not kept down to its necessair price by the commtition 
of fanners, but by that of the landlords themselves. Though 
diere must necessarily be a very wide difference between the 
best and the worst soils in any countiy of considerable extent, 
the gmdation from the one extreme to die other is regular, and 
nea^ imperceptible* The best differ but little from those 
wihich are immediately inferior to them, and the worst from 
nose immediately above them. And iience, whatever may be 
the state of cultivation at any given period^ it would be inqMHk 



any oomWiMMtion among die pro{^n^ri^ culti- 

(arid none else could have any motive jTpr enteriDg 

a su^ k combination)^ factitiously to increase the price ot 
produce. Supposing such ua attempt to be attended with 
V n t^porujy success, soils of the next degi*ee of fertility would 
iristaptly be brought under cultivation, and the redundant sup- 
pljTw'^ijlld infallibl}^ depress prices. It is clear, therefore, that 
the appypriation of land does not make any change on the na- 
ture pr quantum of rent; — that it does not enable the owners of 
the soU to obtain a monopoly price for their products ; — and 
it is equally true in England France, as in Kentucky or 
New Uolliirtd, tliat the produce raised by the capital last ap- 
cultivation of the soil, }Kiys no rent. 

' ;'^*'!flwHSfs"'reasoning is conclusive as to the effect c£ tithes and 
other taxes on raw produce. If tithes were only l^ed fron^ 
soils of a certain degree of fertility, they would not, after soils 
whose productive power was onc-taiih lesis had been cultivute^I^ 
occasion any rise of price, but would fall entirely on the rent of 
the landlord. But this is not the case with tithes. They af- 
fect every quality of land indiscriminately: and being exact- 
ed ^ually from the produce raised in the least favourable, as 
that w’hich isinfsed in the most favourable circumstances, 
‘' occasion only an ino^ease of prices^ Suppose no tithes are le- 
vied, and that the wheat raised on the poorest lands, and which 
determines the price of the whole crop, yields a sufficient profit 
to tile cultivator, and no more, vrhen it sells for 72s. 9d. a quar- 
ter, — the price must rise to 80s. before the same profit can be 
obtained after tithes are imposed. In this case the tithe cannot 
possibly occasion any diminution of rent; for the poorest land 
under cultivation pays no rent; so that if it were not compen- 
sated to the cultivators by an increase of prices, they would be 
driven from their employment, and the necessary supplies would 
no longer be obtained.^^, . In every stage of society, therefore, 
from the il^est to the most improved, tithes operate exactly as 
an^ equivajferit addition to. price of* raw produce, and, like 
.all otfier tax^, must be paid by the consumers — ^that is, by die 
country in general. r * 

; This account of tithes is nowise inconsistent wnth the admit- 
ted fact, that farms w^bicli are free from this burden bring a pro- 
jwrtionably higher rent. The emenses attending their cultiva- 
tion are not increased by the i^jiing a tithe from the ^iroduce 
of other farms ; but, as there croriOt be two prices^ their, occu- 
jfiers obtain tlie same increased price for their produce whiph is 
i^^ssary to indemnify the cultivators of the tithed lands. Thei^ 
U|ust, however, be an equality of pwfits^ as well as of prices | 
XXXIV. NO. 67. E 




and heucc, wbatevl^ adrantagc the occupier of a titbe-fim fa^' 
may gain hy. being relieved from a burden to which neigS* 
hours are subjected, is coiii})ensatc<l by a eorrcspoiidhig^ incr^se 
of rent. # 

Thus It appears, that, if tithes were abolished, the rent of 
such farms as pay tithe would tiot rise to a level with the rent 
of those wliich are titlic-f'ree, but the rents of the latter^woald 
fall to the level of the former. As raw produce is unifbnnly 
sold at its necessary price, or tJie price necessary to afford the 
customary rate of profit to the cultivators of Ihe ’if:orst land, it 
w*ould fall the inoincnt they bad been relieved from this heavy 
charge. And the advantage j^reviously enjoyed by'thc proprie-’ 
tors of tithe-free lands, and which was the only cause of their 
obtaining a higher rent, being done away, their refits would de- ' 
dine to thl^ level of those around them. 

* If rents were uniformly paid in kind^ the imposition of tithes 
would undoubtedly diminish the share of the produce paid 
to the landlords; but as its value would be increased in the 
precise proportion that its quantity had been diminished, this 
reduced share would still exchange for the same quantity of all 
other commodities. Thus, if lands of the qualities Nos. 1, % 3f 
&c., respectively produced, in return for the same expenditure, 
100, 90, SO, &c. quarters, the rent of No. 1. would he twdntj^ 
quarters, of No. ieuy and so on. But they would no longer 
preserve that proportion after the imposition of tithes; for, sup- 
pose a tenth to be deducted from their gross produce, the 
jnaining quantities would be 90, 81, 72, &c.; and, therefore, the 
€5orn rent of No. 1. would be reduced to 18, and of No. 2. to 
9 quarters. It is clear, however, that their money rents, or 
tli^r rents estimated in any other commodity except corn, would 
not be at all affected. If corn sold at 41. before the imposition 
of the tithe, it would afterwards sell at 4/* 8s. 10.^d. ; for, unless 
90 quarters now brought as much as 100 quarters previously 
brought, the cultivators of those soils which paid no, jpeut would 
not be able to realuMi the common and average taj^ of profit. 
Money rents would, therefore, continue unaltered ; on the land, 
No. 1. they would still be 80/«, and on No. 2. 40& 

It appears, therefore, that in every state of society, whether 
rents are high or low, and whether 'they are paid in kind Or in 
money, the charge of tithes is d^ayed entirely by the constment 
of raw p'oduce^ Tbi^ do nql||cqnsist of a portion of the rent 
M land belonging to tite or the lay impropriator i but 

are a burden wbidi fells equally on every individual in liie 
kingdom — on the poorer ^ richest lord-— 

in proportion to ihcir respective consumption of the articl^' 



1820. . 

■js : 

fiEQin which a tithe is levied. Tithes are, therefore, liaUe to all 
the objectiQns which have been ur^cd against taxes on neces- 
saflyts. They must either directly reduce the wages of the la- 
' bourer, and depress his condition in society, or they must in- 
directly produce this effect by lowering tlie fate of profit^ mid 
stimulating the transfer of capital to countries relieved from so 
heavy iTburden. 

The average price of corn in Great Britain during the last 
four or five years, has been very near 80s. the quarter ; and the 
agriculturists contend, that this is the lowest price at which it 
can be raisod on inferior lands. It is plain, however, that if 
a remunerating price when tithes are levied, 72s. would 
nal'iy high vermin eratiiig j)ricc if they were remitted, 
when wheat sells at SOs., tithes, supposing them to be rigor- 
ously exacted, are really equivalent to a tax of Is. a bushel, or 
of 8s. a quarter. But, as the avcra||b, annual consumption of the 
dijSTcrent kinds of grain by each individual, when reduced to the 
standard of wheat, has been csipnated, apparently on good 
grounds, at on^^’quarter, it follows that, when the medium price 
, of wheat Is 80s«, a lithe on com is really the same thing as a 
capitation tax of 8.s., and consequently constitutes an item of 
40s. in the expenditure of every iiimily ofjtve persons I 

But, tithes are objectionable on other grounds. They are 
not a permanent and fixed tax, but they increase according as 
the difficulty of raising raw produce increases; and are infi- 
nitely more burdeiisoifie and oppressive in a year of scarcity, 
tlian in a year of plenty. If the price necessary to afford a 
sufficient supply of com were 60s. a quarter, the tithe would be 
equal to a direct tax of 6s. a quarter ; but in consequence of 
being forced to roson to inferior lands, the increased difficulties 
of production had raised the price to 80s., the tithe would be 
8$.; when prices rose to 100s., the tithe would be IDs., and so 
on. Nor is this alL^The tithe is not onl^^ increased in valtie^ 
but it is also increase<l in amount^ accordifsg as cultivation is 
.extended. 'When laud of quality, and which we havd 

Supposed w^ould yield 100 quarters, was cultivated, the tithe 
would be 10 quaiters : But after land of the stcond quality, and 
which only yields 90 quaiters, had been cultivated, the tithe 
would be levied on 190 quarters! When land of the third qua- 
lity had been cultivated, it would levied on 100 + 90 + 80, or 
270 quarters, and would go on progressively increasing^ both 
injiimue md as fresh seme were brought under tillage. 

Net only, ' says ^ Ricardo, whn was the.&t to explain the 
^ afUure of tithes, * is the aniaiint of the tax increased from 
|||K>000 quarters to 200,000 quarters, when the produce is increased 





- k 

from one to two niilliohs of quarters^ bit, owing to the inct^afed lii- 
hour necessary to produce the second million, the rela^ve value of 
raw produce is so advanced, that tlic 200,000 may be, though ^nly 
twice in qmntU^i yet in value three or four times that of the 100^000 • 
quarters which were paid before, 

, ‘ If an equal value were raised for the Church by any other ireans, 
increasing in the same manner as tithes increase, proportionally with 
the difificulty of cultivation, the effect would be the same. The Church 
would be constantly obtaining an increased portion of the nei pro- 
duce of the land and li^our of the country. In an improving state 
of society, the net produce of the land is always diminisliing in pro- 
portion to its gross produce ; but it is from the net inccfme of a coun- 
try that all taxes are ultimately paid, either in a progressive j jljit i n 
stationary country, yi to increasing •with the gross iticome^ " 

vig on the net income, must necessarilu he a very burdensome, Wni a 
very intolerable to. Thiles ^ a tenm of the gross, and not of^lha 
net produce of the land iidi^^Pbrefo as society improves in waaldb, 
they must, though the sacni^ proportion of the gross produce, become 
a larger and larger portion net produce* ' ^ 

The increased oppressiv^^ of tithe^ from the increased 
dif&cultv of raising raw produce, has been fullv adfnitted by 
those who consider ihein as falling entirely on the rent pf the 
, landlord, and as affi)rding the best means of providing for the 
support of the Church. The jfteverend Mr Hewlett, Vicar 
of Dunmow, in Essex, and advantageously known by his pam- 
phlets on Population and the Poor-laws, published, in ISO 1, 

‘ An Essay on the Influence of Tithes oii^griculturc, ' in which 
we meet witli the following distinct recognition of this principle* 

* Tithes, as legally and constitutionally settled in this kingdom, 
and as far as respects many oT the fruits of the eartli, are the tenth 
of the produce, subject to none of the expenses of culUvation, nor 
of severance flora die ground; liable, however, to the land-tax, and 
parochial rates of every denominadon ; as also to the charges of col- 
lecting, and preparing them for, and cartying them to, market. 
Hence it is apparent mat the real value^ of all Such tithes increases 
fasto than the value of the titheable lands, in the exact proportion 
of the increasing expbnSe of cultivation, and of severance: and as 
these expenses have been rapidly advancing for many years past, the 
disproportion between the increasing value of tithes and of titheable 
lands, has been growing every day greater and greater.— According- 
ly, when I look tound this neighbourhood, 1 iiM that, in the course 
of the last fifty years/ tvhile the rente of farms hme been advae^ng, 
mon an average, about one FotrRTH, Mr rtei value ef the tithes has 
mten nearly tbiplsb; consequently they have been increasing abput 
ttedve times as jhst as the reeds of the lands from which they mere 

♦ Principles of Political Econoihy and Taxation, 1st edit. p.22*l?r 




iu^; ,a&d hence it also znantfest that, in time, the tithes may be 
eqtial to, or greater than, the rent. This, indeed, is already the oase 
whh regard to some articles of expensive culture. It not unfre- 
qulbily happens that the tithe of an acre of hops is nearly worth SL 
or 4^., after the deduction of drying and duty — while, perhaps, the 
annual renf of the ground is only 40s. or 50s. ; and 1 have known the 
tithe of an acre of carrot-seed worth seven or eight guineas, upon 
land 1^ for less than a pound.* — ^p. 3. 

It is not possible to form any precise estimate of the value 
of the tithes paid to the clergy and the jay-impropriators. In 
Mr Cove’s Essay on the Revenues of the Church of England, 
publi&lied in 1796, tlie tithes belonging to the clergy are estimat- 
.ed at 1,562,000/., and those belongiiig to the laity at 192,00<)/k, 
amomHing together to 1,75 !■, 000/. There cannot, however, be 
a doubt that this estimate was a, great too low ; as it was a 

principal object with, Mr Cove to represent tithes as a trifling 
Qurdeii ; and his computations are' throughout extremely loose 
and unsatisfactory. The Reverend Doctor Becke, in his valua- 
ble pamphlet on the Income-tax, published in 1799, has bestow- 
ed a good deal of attention on this subject; and the result of his 
inv^igation gives iSie entire value of the tithes then collected 
» to Elfjf^land and Wales at 2,800,000/. But, die average price of 
c5orii lor the last ten years has been considerably more than 
double its average price for the ten years ending \yith 1 799 ; and 
when the increased extent of cultivation is also t^iken into ac- 
count, we shall certainly be wurrantoc^n concluding, that the 
value of the tithes must now be at leastVdouble their value at 
the former epoch : And hence, supposing Dr Beeke’s estimate to 
be nearly accurate, they must now amount to 5,600,000/., — a 
«um ivhich, great as it is, is yet, we believe, considerably undcr-^ 

For we should form a veiy erroneous conclusion indeed, if we 
supposed that the value of the tithes received by the clergy 
and the lay-impropriators, is equivalent to the whole extent of 
the burden they occasion to tlie community. Exjqjusivc of the 
.glands formA'ly belonging to the "greater abbeys, the rent of 
•which is now suppos^ to exceed /ux? anct a hmf millions, and 
which arc entirely exempted from tithe, a i^onsiderahle extent 
of other lands, in virtue of claims of prescription, of payments 
of ancient moduses and compositions, or by spedal Act oTPar- 
liament, is nearly in the same situation. But, as we have already 
shown, the produce raised on these lands is notwithstanding soli 
at the same price as the produce raised on the lands which are 
fully tithed. In these case^ the landlords are in fact the pro- 
“fietors of die tithes; and it is tjiey, and not the public, who are 




benefited by the exemption. An example will eet thisu prind- 
pie in a clearer point of view.^^Supposc that an annual aupply 
of one million of hats is required to mec^t the demand, ^mat 
they cannot be produced for less than 10s. each, and thal^he 
Government imposes a tax oris., or a titht\ bn 100,000 of these 
hats;— it is obvious that in these circumstances the price of the 
whole hats would immediately rise to 1 Is. ; for, if tliey 4^ ifot, 
no person would buy the taxed hats; and their producers not 
beinfr able to obtain the ordinary rate of profit, would invest 
their stock in some other employment. In this case, therefore, 
the Govcrnm«it, by levying a tithe on 100,000 hats would only 
acquire a revenue of 5000/.; but the total extent of the burden 
thus imposed on the public would really be equal to 50,000/., of 
which 45,000/. woula go into the pockets of tlie manufacturers 
of those hats which were exempted from this charge. Now, this 
is precisely the case with the tithes paid to the clergy and the 
laity. They increase the price of the produce raised on those 
lands which are relieved from them, to a par witii its price on 
those from which they are exacted to the utmost extent* 

It is easy from this to perceive, that it wi|| not do to consider 
the additional burden thus entailed on the community, i| Ji* 
xnited to the increased rents obtained by tlie owners of titbe^ 
free farms in England* The landlords of Scotland must gain 
equally by being exempted from this charge. The produce of 
this division or the United Kingdom, is freely admitted into 
those markets* which ETseMiiefly supplied by the produce raised 
on the tithed lands in the other divisions ; and its Value must, in 
consequence, be proportionably advanced. If tithes are really 
,, an advantageous tax, they ought undoubtedly to press equally 
on all qualities of land* As now levied, a very large propor- 
tion, perhaps not less than one half of their total amount, is 
not received by the clergy, for whose use they were originally 
intended, or by the lay-impropriator, but by the landlords of 
Scotland, and the owners of tithe-free lands m England. 

It is true, that if an cqual/cvcnuc w’ere raised for the sup- 
port of the Churph by any other tax, which shoula vary pro-, 
portionabfy to. thevcxpenses of coltivation, its effect, when con- 
sidered only with x^rence to the sum taken from tlie pockets 
of the public, i^would be the same. But, as tithes are now le- 
vied, they amount, as wc have just seen, to a much larger sura 
fopi is received by the de^ ; — ^and,.^ what is still worse, they 
a perpetual source of divisions and contentions between the 
vptmtor and his flock. The dergy cannot certainly be blamed 
Jbr exacting payment of that portion of the produce of the soil 
which the law has set i^mrt for their support ; nor is there any 

* Tithes. 71 

laet of men more dcfscrvlng of a liberal provision, or whose la- 
bours conduce more to the public advantage. It is the manned 
in^hteh they are provided for, that is vicious and objectionable. 
P^haps the circumstance of the provision for tlic maintenance 
of the clergy, being chiefly derived from a heavy tax on the 
most indispensable of all necessaries, is the least revolting part 
of the system. It will not be denied, that the influence and 
usefulness of a clergyman must mainly depend on his pos- 
sessing the esteem and affection of his parishioners. But, so 
long as stipends are paid by tithes, this esteem and affection, in 
most cases, if not in all, cannot be acquired, excqit by a sacri- 
fice, on th * part ol' the incumbent, of a portion of his income. 

‘ The rate of tithe is a tolerable btiiometcr of tlie love or dis- 
like of parishioners; where they are higlicr than ordinary, you 
may be certain of finding a turbulent divine, who will have his 
rights^ regardless w’hether he is liked or disliked. If, on the 
contrary, they are moderately exacted, the love and respect of 
his neighbours follows of course. ’ * It W’ould be of no use to 
tell a farmer, that the greater the rigour with wd)ich tithe is ex- 
acted, the higher must bo the price of corn. He only sees the 
immediate sacrifice he is called on to make ; and he does not 
give himself the least trouble sibout the ultimate* effects which 
may result from H. Besides, prices w^ould bo equally high if 
the tithe w»as exacted from the worst lands only ; and the farmers 
of tte richer lands have, in truth, a real as well as an apparent 
interest to reduce tlie tithe to the lowest possiUc amount* It is 
undeniable, that this system hokls out a bounty to extortion and 
rapacity, on the one Innd, and to fraud «ancl chicanery, on the 
other.* It has often set the duty und tl)e interest of the clergy in 
opposition to each other ; and has done more to paralyze their ex- 
ertions, and to deprive them of the esteem of their parishimicrs, 
than all the efforts of all the infidels and sectaries that over ex- 
isted. In the emphatic langudj^ of Mr Gi;aHan, * it has made 
the clergyman’s income to fall with his yirtues, and to rise with 
his bad qualities; just as it has made the parishioner to lose by 
• being ingenuous, and to save by dishonesty. * No better plan 
could have been devised to disseminate the worst vices, and to 
make the ministers of the Gospel of Peace tlie unwilling in- 
struments of' endless liti^tion and implacable animosities. 

To the credit of the Church of England it ought to be men- 
tioned, that the clergy seldom carry their claim for tithes to its 
full extent; and that they are, in general, much less rigorous 
in their demands than the lay-impropriators. But, in despite of 
this moderation, tithes constitute an extremely heavy burdci^. 

f Survey of the County of Clare, p. 


Mr - Stevenson, the well-informed author of ibe Agricultuml 
Survey of the County of Surrey, published in IS09^ states 
(p. 92.), that, although tidies are not more rigorously 
there thaii in tnosL odier counties in Enprland, it is the comn^ 
opinion, that a farm tithe-free, is better worth 20s. ai^ acre than 
a tithed farm, equally favoured in soil and situation, is worfli ISs. 
This may, at first si^bt, appear a dtspi’aportioned different ; 
but a little reflection will satisfy ns why it should be so great. 
Consiclcrably more than the mere value of the titlie must be 
taken into account. The tithe is a variable tax. It increases 
not only according to the gradual increase of cultivation in ge- 
neral, but it increases proportionably to the greater expenditure 
of capital and labour on each particular farm. No doubt, in 
this, as in every other case, the faiTOcr is completely indemni- 
fied for the tithe ; for otherwise he w’ould not expend this addi- 
tional capital. But he does not think so. He pays his rent 
willingly to the landlord ; but he considers the tithe^proprietbr 
as an interloper who, without having contributed to raise the 
crop, claims a share of the jiroduce* The lear of being sub- 
jected to this demand, unquestionably contributes to check the 
progress of improvement, and to cramp the exertions of the 
farmer. Th^ occupier of a farm subject to this charge, can ne- 
ver be brought to consider himself* as realizing the same i>rofit 
from the capital he employs, as his neighbours in the tithe-free 
farms ; and hence » considerably greater increase of ptiiiBs is 
necessary to induce him to lay out additional capital, than would 
be necessary were he relieved from this tax. In this way tithes 
contribute indirectly, as well as directly, to raise prices — direct- 
ly, by the positive addition which they make to the expenses of 
the ciiltivatorspf bad land — and indirectly, by generating an 
indisposition to cq^ply fresh capital to tlie improvement of the 
soil. ^ Of all instbntioDS, ’ says Dr Paley, who cannot surely 
he reckoned unfri^dly tb^ tbefreal interests of the Church, 

^ adverse to cultivation and improvement, none is so noxious as 
that of tithes. A claimant here enters into the produce, who 
contributed no assistance whatever to the pro<laction. When • 
years, perhaps, of care and toil have matured an imprewement — 
wafaen the husbazi^man sees new crops ripening to liis skill and 
iflKistry — the moment he is ready to put his sickle to the grain, 
be finds himself compelled to divide the harvest with a stranger. 
Tithes arc a tax, not only upon industiyv hut upon that indus- 
try which feeds mankind, upon that species of exertion which 
it i» the aim of all wise daws to cherish and promote. ' 

But it is to Ireland, and not to England, that^we must di- 
yect our ailention, if we wish to see the tithe system in its 

worn form. In England, the vast majority of die; inhabitante 
are Protestants, and the hinds of the rich, as well as of the 
po^r, are Equally taxed for the support of the Church. But 
th^ reverse of all this has place in Ireland. Therf^ the pro- 
vision for.a Protestant establisshnient is chiefly drawn from Ca^- 
tholics; and while the potatoe garden of the poor dotter is 
titn^ed to the utmost extent, the flocks of the extensive and 
opulent grazier are entirely exempted ! Primate Boulter, whosfi 
administration commenced in 1724?, and ended about 1742, 
ill a lelter to Sir Robert Walpole, thus writes. ‘ Siniflfe the 
Reformation, while the lands v;ere mostly in Popisli hands, 
the clergy Took wliat they could get, thankfully; and very few 
went near their living to do their duty, * Matters continued in 
this state until the capitukition of Limerick restored tranquil- 
lity to Ireland, and threw almost all the benefices into the hands 
of Protestant rectors. Subsequently to this period, the clergy 
began gradually to reassume their constitutional rights; an^ 
u|»out the year 1720, formally demanded payment of 
thhe of flgisUnent, or the tithe of cattle and other produce, 
of grass lands. But althougli the right of the clergy to this 
tithe was equally clear and indisputable as their right to the 
tithe of tillage lands, it was vehemently resisidfeby the land- 
lords. The clergy appealed to the Court of Exchequer, wlio, 
after a full and patient hearing of the case, decided it in their 
favour. Tins, however, did not put the question to rest; for, 
shortly after the decision of tlie Court, the Irish House of 
Commons resolved (18th March, 1735), that ‘ any lawyer as- 
sisting ill a prosecution for tithes of agistment, should be consi- 
dered as an enemy to his country; * By this extraordinary re- 
solution, ado|)ted when the cultivated land in Ireland was not the 
liiindrcdth }iart of what it is at this moment, this honoumblc as- 
sembly robbed tlie clergy of die principal source of {heir in- 
come, and threw the burden of thmr support entirely on ihe 
proprietors of tillage lands. Such was tfaefooting on which the 
tithe of agistment stood at the period of the Union, when Sir 
John Macartney, aware that tlie resolution of 1785 was not law, 
moved that the abolition of ihe tithe of agistment should stand as 
a part of the act. This propositon was intended only as a stra- 
tagem to defeat the Union. 

^ It was not expected that the minister would agree to such a mea* 
^ure ; while on tlic other hand it was confidently believed that it would 
act like magic, in urging the body of landed proprietors to oppose 
•*the Union, which would be the means of making this tithe revert to 
its original owners. The minister, however, instead of resisting the 
measure, suffered it quietly to pass ; and that which, before the U- 


uion, was only a resolution of the House of Consmoi'^ *;]» now a for- 
mal act of the Imperial Parliament* ’ * ^ ^ 

Besides the striking injusticeof having one part of society /e- 
lieved from a burden imposed for the common benefit ofnhe . 
wbole^ this limitation of the tithe has been productive of still 
greater disadvantages. The clergy, whose incomes being 'Chief- 
ly derived from tithes levied frean the poorest class df their^a- 
rishioners, and who were almost all Catholics, were compelled, 
hs well to save themselves from the odium and even hazard of 

personal interference, as from non-residence, to let their tithes, 
or to employ an agent, or tithe proctor, to collect them. It 
is easy to perceive what an immense field has thus been opened 
to oppression and injustice. The poverty of the cotters and 
other small farmers, render them in most cases unable to appeal 
to the law for redress against the unjust exactions of the tithe 
proctor. The consequeiicc is, the prevalence of discontent, riot, 
imd bloodshed. The levying of ilie tithe from ].K>tatoe crops 
lari to the protracted and di^raceful outrages of tlie Whiti^ 
boys ; and the banditti who, under the names of Steel-boys, Oatw 
boys, Peep-of-day-boys, Carders, Thrashers, Stc. have in sik> 
cession desolated this unhappy country, have almost all had 
their origin ^ the same cause. It deserves to be mentioned, 
that^ wdth the exception of the White-boy^ whose depredations 
Kcre confined to Munster, the others principally consisted of 
the manufacturing and Presbyterian population of Ulster. Nor 
is the case very dinerent even at this day. Mr Wakefield, who 
has left no subject untouched which could throw light on the 
state of Ireland, and the accuracy of whose information has not 
been disputed, states distinctly that there is infinitely more diffi- 
culty experienced in collecting tithes among the Protestants of 
the North* than among the Catholics in the South. 

We have already shown, that no farmer will lay out capital 
leiUiei: in the improvement of old land, or in the bringing in of 
|iew^ unless the price, of raw produce be such as wiU imord him 
tlie eommon and average rate of profit on the capital so expend* 
ed* But in Ireland, the occupiers of the small patches of 
ground into which the country is so very generally divided, are 
entirely destitute of capital. These patches are sought after 
because tliey afford the means of prolonging a miserable ex- 
istence ; and, owing to the excess of populaticm, the com|>cti" 

* yi for them is so great fliat it is but seldom the rent is limit- 
to what tlie land is fairly worth. Thirty-five years ago it 
was no uncommon thing for a coiicr to pay 7/. per Irish nerff- 

f Wakefield's Account of Ireland, voi. ii. p. 4S5. 




for ,potatoc ground^ filial an atlditional 10s. or 12s. for tilhel * 
The evil must have inci’eased since ; and it is rendered more 
grievous jpud intolerable, from the prevailing custom of taking 
a ^omissory note from the cotters in lieu ot the tithe. When 
tills promissory note becomes due, the poor cotter is generally 
unable to it; and his cow, as the readiest article, is laid hold 
of and exposed to public auction. * Judge, ’ says Mr Wakcr 
field, ' what must be the feelings of the half-fauiishcd cotter, sur* 
rounded by a wretched family clamorous fpr food, when he sees the 
tenth part of the produce of his potatoe garden exposed to public 
cant ; or, if he has given a promissory note for a certain sum of mo- 
ney, to corupensato for such tithe, when it becomes due, to hear the 
heart-rending cries of his oifspring ednging round him, and lament- 
ing for the milk of which they are deprived, by the^cow*s being sold 
to discharge the debt. Such accounts are not the creation of fancy ; 

the facts do exist, and are but too common in Ireland I, ' continues 

Mr Wakefield, ‘ have seen the cow, the favourite cow, driven away, 
accompanied by the sighs; the tears, and the imprecations oi a whole 
family, who were paddling after, through wet and dirt, to take tiieir 
last aifectionatc farewell of this their only friend and benefactor at die 
pound-gate* 1 have heard with emotions, which I can scarcely de- 
scribe, deep curses repeated from village to village as the cavaicudo 
proceeded. I have witnessed the group pass the domain walls of the 
opulent grazier, whose nunSerous hei ds were cropping the most luxu* 
fiant pastures, whilst he was secure from any demand for die tithe of 
dieir produce, looking on with the most unfeeling indiffererice. But 
let us reverse the picture, and behold the effects which are produced 
by oppression so insufferable as to extinguish every sentiment in the 
breast, but a desire of revenge. I have beheld, at night, houses in 
flames, and for a moment s^posed myself in a country exposed to 
the ravages of war, and suffering from the incursions of an enemy. 
On the following morning, the most alarming accounts of Thrashers 
and White-boys have met my ear; of men who had asserobltHl widi 
weapons of destruction, for the purpose of compelling people to swear 
not to submit to the payment of their tidies. 1 have been informed 
of' these oppressed people, in the ebullition of their rage, iiuving 
murdered tithe-proctors and collectors, wreaking their vengeance 
with every mark of the most savage barbarity. Cases of this kind 
;ire not rare in Ireland; they take place daily : And were a his- 
tory of such tragical events collected, they would form a work which 
could not be read witliout horror, and which wmuld be the best con^- 
pieot upon the system. * f 

If any additional evidence were wanting of the pernicitTus 
?nul destructive effects which have rc:5n!ted IVoni the maiuier in 

* Grattan's Speeches, Vol. I. 148. 
t Accijunt of Ireland, Vol. II. p. 430’. 




which tithes arc levied in Ireland, it mi^ht be found in the ex- 
aminations of the leaders of the rebellion in the Houses of Lords 
and Commons. On Lord Clarets asking Mr Thomas Emmet, 
whether he thouglil Ciitholic Emancipation and Parliamennuy 
Reform any objects with the common people, lic.answerea, 

* As to Catholic Emancipation, 1 don’t mink it matters a fca- 

* tlier, or that the poor think of it ; as to Parliamentary Kc- 
^ form, I don’t think the common people ever thought of it un- 

* til it was jiicuJcalcd to them, that a reform in Parliament 

* would cause a removal of those grievances which they 

^ do /eel. ’ AVhen Mr Emmet was questioned by Mr Foster, in 
llie House of Commons, whether the Catholics peculiarly ob- 
jected to tithcs,j he answered, ‘ They certainly have the best 
right to complain ; but I rather tlnnk they object more as te» 

< nants than as Catholics — and in Gommon with the rest of the 
‘ tenantiy in tlie kingdom ; and if any Other way of paying even 

* a Protestant Establishment, which did not bear so sensibly 

* upon their industry, were to take place, I believe it v)Quld go 

* a great voaif to content ihenu' On Dr M‘Nevin’s being ask^ 
whether Mr Grattan’s motion relative to tithes was not a short 
cut towards putting down the Established Church ? lie re- 
plied, * If the stability of tlie Established Church depends on 
^ the payment of tithes, the Church stands on a weaker founda- 

* tion than in civility I would have said of it ; but of this I am 

* sure— that, if tithes had been commuted according to Mr Grat^ 
tan^s plan, a very powerful engine would have been taken out of 

* mr hands.* 

Surely it is now high time to endeavour to devise some less 
partial and less oppressive means of providing for the support of 
the Establishment. ' For iq}wards of sixty years— from the era 
of the Whiteboys down to diat of the Rij^oxurnm — Ireland has 
consiantlj, or with a &w short intervals only excepted, been a 
prey to excises arising fnon this cause« The gibbet, Uiat ready * 
ancf perpetual resource of weak and vindictive legislator^ has 
groaned under the weight of criminals ; and the country has 
been outraged and disgraced by the incessant recurrence of 
bloody and barbarous executions* But tranquillity has not been, 
and could j||hbe restored, by such means* If we expect to free 
Ireland frmP' these sanguinary atrocities, we must attack the 
evil in its sources, and not content ourselves with lopping off the 
limbs it has vitiated. ‘ The true principle with respect to 3four 
^ peasantry is exoneration ; and if I could not take the burden 

* entirely ojF their back, I would make it as light as possible. * 
? — would exempt the peasant’s com and garden from tithes ; 

if 1 could not him rich, I would do the next thing in my 

Tithes. 77 

* power; I would his poverty as sacred^ and perolect 

‘ against an extortioner, the hallowed of his little boun- 

* Grattan" s Speech^ lUk 

' As might haVe been expected, a variety, of plans have been 
suggestea«for putting a stop to the gross and flagrant abuses of 
tithe system, Irjr raising an ecjuivalent income for the clergy 
in lieu of tithe- To effect this most desirable object, it has been 
proposed to assess the landlords of the difTerent counties in such 
a sum as would be sufficient to buy estates yielding a rent equal 
to the present value of the tithes, which should be exclusively 
applied for^ the support of the clergy- It would^ however, be 
manifestly unjust to burden*one class of society with the cost of 
a measure which would be so greatly beneficial to every other 
class. It is true, the iiicreased facilities it would give to future 
improvements, would render the abolition of the tithe p irticu- 
larly advantageous to owners of estates; but die j)ubl!c in gene- 
ral would be equal gainers by the fall which it would occasion 
in the price of raw produce. Although, therefore, the land- 
less should be made to contribute a larger proj>ortion than the 
^ ofbers, the estates for the clergy ought certainly to be purclias- 
* cd by a tax levied from the countrjjiijb general. But, besides 
the difficulty of raising so very large a mm as would be reejuir- 
ed for these purposes, this, measure is liable to other objections. 
It would have the effect of adding prodigiously to the landed 
property in mortmain, and it would have a strong tendency to 
sink the character of the clergyman in that of the farmer. The 
clergyman ought not to be set a-bai*gaining and higgling with 
squires, farmers, and labourers. The less he comes into con- 
tact with them, in this way, so much tlje better- It is extreme- 
ly difficult to reconcile the two charaCters,of a good farmer and 
a zealous and attentive clergyman- 

However, if there were no other method of getting rid of 
this odious and oppressive burden, objections against com- 
muting, tithes for landed property, should certainly be entitled to 
very Iftde weight. But we incline to think, that the proposal 
for a ocmimutation by means of a poundage m renfSy w'ould, on 
the whole; be more eligible. Were Ais plan adc^ed, some 
such machinery as thatny which the Income-tax was collected, 
would suffice to levy the rate at a very smalt expense ; and 
while the clergy w'ould be secured in all their just rights, an end 
would be put to all disputes ti^een the incumbent and his pa- 
.rishioners. ' 

The same objection may peihaps be^Hiade to i this plan that 
we higed against the former, Biat instead of distributiHg the 
burden of providing for the Church equally over the commu- 



nity, k ^()uld throw it dntirefy on tlie proprietors of lands and 
houses. But on rent would not rcatijr have this 

effect, lleiiil' fh^^^rornruou acceptation, it must be recol^ct-^ 
€‘c], iucludeet 4lpt t^rely tlie sum paid to the landlord for the use 
c»Ftiie iiaturartthd inherent powers ot* the soil, but also tlie sum 
j)£iid him for the use of the necessary building and fences, and 
lor the other improvements which may have been made on its 
sttrface* This portion of rent consists really of the profits of 
the capital vested in these buildings and improvements, and 
consefjuently would not be affected by a poundage or tax on 
rent. Neither a landlord nor a farmer would erect^ steading, 
or lay out any capital, either in thc?*bringing in of new, or the 
amelioration of old land, unless the price of raw produce were 
Mich as, exclusive of all expenses, would'yield the common rale 
of profit. But as this profit would be denominated rent, and 
would, by the proposecl plan, be subjected to a poundage, it 
obvious tiiat no such expenditure of capital would take place 
until prices had been prbporttonably advanced. It is not pos* 
siblc to say what portion of the rentm of the kingdom is made 
up of interest of capittil, and what of a compensation for the ule 
of the powers of the soil. 'H7nc|uestionably, however, the former 
anioimts tp a very large proportion of the reant derived from 
good soils, and to almost the w^hole of that derived from those 
of an inferior quality. ■ Now, it is plain, that a poundage on 
this portion of rent would neither iml on the landflords nor the 
tenants, but on the consumers of raw produce, or, which is the 
same thing, on the conrftry in general. Thus far, tlierefoie, a 
poundage on rents would be an equal tax ; and the additional 
portion, which would fall exclusively on the landlord, would- 
not be more than a reasonable equivalent for the peculiar od* 
vantages he w'ould derive from the abolition of tithes. 

Should this plan be adopted, it would be proper to levy the 
poundage equally from rents of every dcscri^on. It is alike 
inconsistent with justice and with common sense, that, , because 
an estate happens, some thr^ hundred and fifty years ago, to 
belong to a monastery, it should now be exempted from all 
charge on account of Establishment. But, as the law now 
stands, it is tnore than ex.empted~it is, as we have shown, ac- 
tuall^nrich^d by the burdens imposed on others I This mon- 
strous anomaly should be tolerated no longer. If any exemp- 
tions were made, it ought to be in favour of occupancies belqw 
10/. or 20/. a year in* value. It would; be ivcU to relieve 
cotters of Ireland ent^y of this tax ; t»ut, whether that ‘ 
done or not, the grass lands of that kingdom, and the 
lauds of England, ought unquestionabfy to be made, to oontei* 
bute equally with the rest to the support of the ChurclH 




Were a pounda^ on rents suMtuted for tithes, thn# part of 
the income of the Church derived from rents, proporfy' so term- 
ed, would «tiU increase with every increase in ilie difficulty of 
. pn^uction; but that part which was derived from U»e profits 
capital, and wliich had to be defrayed by the public, instead of 
increasing,* as at prewnt, proportionably to the gross produce of 
thj^ soil, would only increase proportionably to the net profit of 
the stock employed in its cultivation. This would be a very 
great advantage. It would give the clergy every fair benefit 
to which they are entitled ; and would save the public from die 
scourge of a system of taxadon which must necessarily increase 
in a greater'ratio than the means of paying it. 

That there would be many and serious difiiculdes in the way 
of such a cumitnutadon as is here proposed, cannot be doubteiL 
But they arc not insurmountable; and ought not to be allowed 
to weigh one.grain in the balance when set against the advan- 
tages that would result from carrying it into effect. JSuch a 
measure would occasion a very considerable fall in the price of 
the necessaries of life ; it would reh'evc the country from the 
worst of all taxes — a tax increasing with its gross, and payable 
'«out of its net income ; it would restore that harmony aud good 
understanding between the clergyman and his parishioners, so 
essential to the best interests of society ; and it would do more 
to secure the })eacc, traiupiillity, and improvement of Ireland, 
than any measure which has ever received the sanction; of the 

Art, IV. Memoirs^ the Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds; "with 
some Observations on his Talents and Character, By Josiiiui 
Farington, R. a. Londtm, Caddl & Davies. 1819. 


T^hjs, with regard to ii^ main object, musSt certainly be re- 
garded os a superfluous publication. Forty years aftei" 
the death of Sir Joshua, Mr Farington has found himself call** 
ed upon to put forth a,^iin octavo voluiUe, to revive tlie recede 
I lection of the dispute between their late President and the Aca- 
demy, and to correct an error into which Mr Mtilone had fall- 
en, in supposing that Sir Joshua was not entirely to blame |a 
th^ business,^ This is a remarkable instance of the tenacious- 
ness of corporate bodies with respect to the immaculate purity 
of Aeir conduct. It was at first suggested that printed notes 
mi^t be sufiicient, with references to die pages ot Mr Malone’« 
account : but it was finally judged best to give it as a connected 


Life oj Sir Rtynolds^ 

narrative — that the vindication of the Academy might al^) 1% 
only as a barenthesb or an episode. So vrc have a foU oocpnnt 
of Sir Joshua’^a birth and parentage, go<l-fathers and 
thers, with aa, many repetitions beside as were necessary to give 
a colouring |tio#fr Farington's ultimate object. The manlier 
in which of the publication is iusmuated, is curious and 

characteristic : But oiir business at praent is with certain ni^jSfrc 
general matters, on which we have some observations to offer. 

[f In the present instance, * «aji*s Mr F., ' we see how a character, 
formed b}’ early habits of consideration, self-government, and perse'* 
industry, acquired the highest fame ; and made his path 
through life a cours# of unruffled moral enjoyment. SirJoshua iley- 
uolds, when young, wrote rules of conduct for himself. One of his 
maxims was, “ that the great principle of being happy in this worl^ 
is, not to mind or be allected with small things."'* To this rule^pl 
strictly adhered ; and the constant habit of controlling his mind con- 
tributed greatly to that evenness of temper which enal^i^d him to live 
pleasantly with persons of all descriptions. Placability of temper 
may be said to have been hlis characteristic. The happiness of pds- 
sesring such a dispositiou was acknowledged by his friend Dr John- 
son, who srid, Reynolds was the most iuriilnerable man he had e- 
Ver known. ^ 

The life of this distinguished artist exhibits a useful lesson to all 
those who may devote themselves to the same pursuit. He was not 
of the class of such as have been held up, or who have esteemed 
thcmse^i^, to be beaven*born geniuses. He appeared to think little 
of such claims. It will be seen, in tlie account of his progress to 
the high situation he attained in his profession, that at no period was 
there in him any such fancied inspiration ; on the contrary, every 
youthful reader of the Memoirs of Sir Joshua Reynolds may feel as- 
sured, that his ultimate success will be in proportion to the resolu- 
tion with which he follows his example. * ^ • 

This, wc heliev^ is the current morality and plrilosophy of 
the present day ; and therefore it js of more consequence to ob- 
serve, that it appears to to be a mere tissue of sophistry and 
foilj. And first, as to hi^iness depending on * not being af- 
fect^ witli small things^* it seems plain enough, that a eon*- , 
tim^fiowof pleasurable sensations cannot depend every ino-* 
iiient on ^eat oli^ects. Childrw are w%>poscd to have a fair | 
share of enjoyment ; and yet this arises chiefly from their being 
delighted widi trifles— * pleased with a rattle, tickled with a 
straw. * The reason why wc so seldom, carry on the happy yivar^ 
city of early youth into mat^rer age is, that we form to tWr 
selves a higher standard of enjoyment than w'c con reatixe ; and 
tbM c^r passions gradually fasten on certahv favondite oljiecti^ 
whieh^ in proportion to their magnitude, are of rare occurrence^ 
and, for the most i)art, out of our reach. The example, too, 

Life (f Sir Jos/ma Reynolds. &1 

" Miiijh suggested jgeneral remarks, actually ejeposes tbeir 
(allacj.. Si^ Joshua dief not owe his happiness to his coutempt of 

i Uule things^ but to his success in great ()iks — and it was by that 

* actual succof^s, far more than the meritorious industry and 
exertion which coiiU ibuted to it, that he was enabled to disre- 
gaa*d little vexations. Was llichardson, for examjde, who^ 
it is observed afterwards, ^ had merit in his profession, but not 
of 11 liigh order, though he tliought so welt on the subject 
of art, and had practised it so long, * to fee! an equal moral 
enjoyment in the want of equal success ? Was tlie idea of 
lliiit cxcellewce, which he had so long laboureKf in vain to 
realize, to console him for the loss of that ‘ highest tame, * 
ivhich is here represented as the invariable concomitant of per- 
severing industry ? Or w’as lie to disregard his failure as a 
trifle ? W as the consciousness that he had done his best, to 
stand him in stead of that ‘ unrnfllcd moral enjoyment* which 
Sir Joshua owed in no small degree to the coronet-coaches that 
besieged his doors, to the great names that sal at his table, to 
the beauty that crowded liis painting-room, and reflected its 

, loveliness back from tlie lucid mirror of his canvas? These 
tilings do indeed put a man above minding little inconveniences, 
and * gr.iatly contribute to that eveiiiit^ss of temper wdiich eii- 

* afafes him to live pleasantly with persons of all descriptions, ^ 
Blit was Hudson, Sir Joshua’s master, who had grown old and 
riclx ill tlie cultivation of his art, and who found himself sud- 
denly outdone and eclipsed by his pupil, to derive much unnot- 
ed enjoyment I’rom this petty circumstance, or to comfort him- 
self with OIK? of those maxims which young ilcynolds had writ- 
ten out for his conduct in life ? When Sir Joshua himself lost 
the use of one of his 03^08, in the decline of his life, he became 
])eevisli, and did not long survive the practice of his favourite 
art. Siqiposc the same loss to have happened to him in the 
meridian of his fame, we fear that all his consciousness of merit, 
and all his ertbrts of industry, would have been insuflScient to 
have sup[)lietl that unrulfled fdicity which we are here taught 
ft> refer exclusively^ to these high sources. 

The truth is, that those specious maxims^ though they may seem 
at first sight to minister to content, and toT enctiurage to merito- 
rious exertion, lead in fact to a wrong esitirnate of human life, to 
unreasonable anticipations of success, and to bitter repinings and 
regrets at wdiat in any reverse of fortune we think the injustice of 
society and the caprice of iialuro. We liave a very remarkable 
instance of this process of mental sophistication, of the setting up 
a theory against experience, and then wondering that human na- 
ture does not answer to our thcoiy, in what our author says vki 

VOL, XXXIV. NO. 67 • 

8? ^ Sir Jhdm B^nolds. 

this very subject of HodsoDy and his more fortunate scholar af- 
terwards. 1% 48. *lt might be thought that the talents of Eev- 
* jiohfs to which no degree of ignorance or imbecility in the 

art could b© insensible, added to his extraordinary reputa- * 
‘ fion, would have cxtinmiished evei^’ feeling of Jealousy or 

Hivalship in the mind or his master Hudson ; but the malady 

* was so deeply seated ns to defy the usual remedies applied hy 
‘ time and reflection. Hudson^ uhat at the head of his arU ad- 

* wired and praised by all^ had seen a youth rise vp and aunihi- 
‘ l(7fe bioih lih Income and his Fame; and he never cmld divest 
‘ his mind (f the feelings (f mortificatian caused by the loss he had 
^ thus sustained. ' This Mr F. actually considers aS something 
quite extraordinary and unreasonable ; and which, might have 
been easily prevented by a diligent study of Sir Joshua’s admir- 
able aphorisms, against being affected by small things. Such 
is our Academiciiin’s ethical simplicity, and enviable ignorance of 
the ways of the world ! 

One would think that tlie name of Hudson, which occurs 
frequently in these jiages, might have taught our learned autlmr 
some little distrust of that otlier favourite maxim, that Genius 
is the effect of education, encouragement, and practice. It li . 
the basis, however, of his whole moral and intellectual system ; 
and is thus distinctly announced and enforced in a very elabo- 
rate passage. 

• With resfiect to his (Sir Joshua^s) early indications of talent for 
the art he afterwards professed, it would be idle to dwell upon them 
as manifesting any thing more than is common among boys of his age. 

As an amusement he probably preferred drawing to any other to 
which he was tempted. In the specimens wJuch have been pre- 
served, there is no sign of premature ingenuity ; his history is, iu 
this respect, like what might be written of very many other artists, 
perhaps of artlslts in general. His attempts were applauded by kind 
and sanguine friends ; and this encouraged him to persevere till it 
became a fixed desire in him to make further proficiency, and conti- 
nually to request that it might be his profession. It is said, that his 
purpose was determined by reading Richardson’s Treatise on Paint- 
ing. Possibly it might have bfen so ; his thoughts having been pre^^ ' 
viously occupied with the subject.. Dr Johnson, in his Life of Cow- 
}»er, writes as follows— In the windows of his mother’s apartment 
lay Spenser’s Faery Queen, in which he very early took delight ta 
read, till by feeling the charms of verse, he became, as he relates, 
irrecoveiabfy a poet. Such are the accidents which, sometimes re- 
membered, and perhaps sometimes forgotten, produce tliat peculiar 
designation of mind, and propensity for some certain science or em* 
ployment, which is commonly called Genius. The true genius is a 
man of large general powers accidentally determined to some parti- 

Life of Sir Jbsiua Reynolds. 8S 

Cellar direction. Sir Joshua Reynolds, thr^ great painter of the pre- 
i^nt age, h^d the first fondness for his art excited by the perusal of 
Richardson’s Treatise. ” In this definition of genius, Reynolds fully 
' concurred with Dr Johnson ; and he was himself an instance in proof 
of its truth.* He had a sound natural capacity, and, by observation 
aixd long -continued labour, always discriminating with judgment, he 
obtained universal applause, ana established his claim to be ranked 
amongst those to whom the highest praise is due ; for his produc- 
tions exhibited perfect originality. No artist ever consalted the 
works of eminent predecessors more than Sir Joshua Reynolds. He 
drew from every possible source something which might improve his 
practice ; anil he resolved the whole of what he saw in nature, and 
found in art, into a union, which made his pictures a singular display 
of grace, truth, beauty and richness. ’ 

From the time that Mr Locke exploded innate ideas in the 
commencement of the last century, there began to be a confus- 
ed apprcljonsion in some speculative lieads, that there could be 
no innate iaculties either ; and our half metaphysicians have 
been floundering about in this notion ever since : as if, be- 
cause there are no innate ideas, that is, no actual impres- 
sions existing in the mind without objects, there could be no 
[)cculiar capacity to receive them from objects; or as if there 
might jiot be as great a difference in the capacity itself as 
in (he outward objects to be impressed upon it. We might as 
well deny, at once, that tliere are organs or faculties to receive 
impressions, because there are no uiiiate ideas, as deny that 
tliere is an inherent difference in the organs or faculties to re- 
ceive impressions of any particular kind. If the capacity ex- 
ists (which if luust do), there may, nay w^c sliould say there 
must^ be a difference in it, in different persons, and witli re- 
spect to different things. To allege that there is such a dif- 
ference, no more implies the doctrine of innate ideas, than to 
say that the brain of a man is^ more fitted to discern external 
objects than a block of marble, imports tliat there are innate 
ideas in the brain, or in the block of marble. The impression, 
•it is true, does not exist in the sealing-wax till the seal has 
been applied to it ; but there was the previous cajiacity to re- 
ceive the impression ; and there may be, and most probably is, 
a greater degree of fitness in one piece of sealing-wax than in 
another. That the original capacity, the aptitude for certain 
impressions or pursuits, should be necessarily the same in diffe- 
rent instances, with the diversity that we see in men’s organs, 
fajuiltics, and acquirements of various kinds, is a supposition not 
only gratuitous, but absurd. There is the capacity of animals, 
the capacity of idiots, and of half idiots and half madmen of va- 
tious descriptions ; tliere is capacity, in short, of all sorts and 

F 2 

81 * 

tsife of Sir Joshua Tte^piMi, Ah. 

degrees, from an oyster to a Newton : Yet we are gJ^aVely toM, 
that wherever tliere is a power of sensation, the genius must be 
the same, and would,’ w ith proper cultivation, produce the aaihe * 
effects. ‘ No, say the French materialists; but in minds com- 
monly well organized {e&mvrimement bien orgamses)^ the results- 
will, in the same given circumstances, be the same. ’ That is, 
in the same circumstances, and with the same average capacilyv 
there will be the same average degree of genius or imbecility — 
which is Just an identical proposition. 

To make any sense at all of the doctrine, that circumstances 
are everything and natural genius nothing, the result ought at 
least to correspond to thC aggregate of impressions, determining 
the mind this way or that, like so many weights in a scale. But 
the advocates of this doctrine allow’ that the result is not by any 
means according to the know'n aggregate of impressions, but, on 
the contrary, that one of the most insignificanV or one not at 
all perceived, will turn the scale' against the bias and experience 
of a man’s whole life. The reasoning is here lame again. These' 
persons wish to get rid of occult causes, to refer every thing to* 
distinct principles and a visible origin ; and yet they say that 
they know not bow' it is, that, iu sj>ite of all visible circumstan- 
ces, such a one should be an incorrigiMe blockhead and such^ 
an other an extraordinary geniu.s ; but that, no doubt, there wai^ 
a secret influence exerted, a by-play in it, in which nature 
Iiad no hand, but accident gave a nod, and in a lucky or un- 
lucky minute fixed the destiny of both for life, by some slight 
and transient impulse ! Now, this is like the reasoning of the 
astrologers, w’ho pretend that your whole Iiistory is to be trac- 
ed to the constellation under which you were bom : and when 
you object that tw'o men born at the sanje lime have the most 
diflerent character and fortune, they answer, that there was 
fm imperceplihle wtnTol between the moment of their births, 
that made the whole difleren^. But if this short interval, 
of which no one could be aw’arr, made the whole diflerenee, 
it also makes their whole science vain. Besides, the notion of, 
an accidental impulse, a slight turn of the screw's giving a to- 
tal revulsion to the whole frame of the mind, is only intelligi- 
ble on the supposition of an original or previous bias which 
f^lls in with that impression, and catches at the loug-wishcd for 
^'Aipportunity of disckising itself: — like conibustiblc matter meet- 
ing with the spark tliat kindles it into a flame. But it is little 
less than sheer nonsense to maintain, while outward impressiops 
are said to be every tiling, and the mind alike indifferent to all, 
that one single unconscious impression shall decide upon a man’a 
whole character, genius, and pursuits in life, r— and all the rest 
thencoforw'ard go foi* nothing. 

L^e of Sir Joshua lU^nolds. »5 

Again, we hear it said that the difference orniidersiaiiding or 
character is not very appaiWt at first: — ^though this is not uni- 
^forrnly Irue^hut neither is the difference between an oak and 

briar very great in the seed or in the shoot:— yet w’ill any 
one deny the germ is there, or that the soil, culture, the 
fiun and heat alone produce the difference ? So circumstances 
arfi necessary to the mind : but the mind is necessary to circum- 
sUnces. The ultimate success depends on the joint action of 
botb^ They were fools who believed in innate ideas, or talkeil 
of * heaven- torn genius^ without any means of developing it. 
They are greater, because more lc Lj*ned fools, who assert that 
cireiirnstances alone can create or develop genius, where none 
c;xists. We may distinguish a stature of the mind as well as of 
the body, — a mould, a form, to wtiich k is predetermined irrevo- 
cably. It is true that exercise gives strengdi to the I'acultics 
botli of mind and btov? but it is not true that it is the only 
source of strength in cither caseu Exercise wall make a weak 
man strong, but it will make a strong man stronger. A dwarf 
will never lie a match for a giant, train him ever so. And are 
there not dwarfs as well as giants in intellect ? Appearances are 
it, and reason is not against it. 

There are, beyond till dispute, pci'sons who have a talent for 
particular things, which according to Dr Jolmson^s definition of 
genius, proceeds from ^ a greater general capacity accklentally 
dotermined to a particular direction.^ But this, instead of 
solving, doubles die miracle of genius ; for it leaves entire all 
the former objections to inherent talent, and supposes that one 
man tof largo general cti^iacity* is all sorts of genius at once. 
This is like admitting that one man may be naturally stronger 
than iiTiother — but denying that he can be naturally stronger 
in the legs or the arms only ; and, deserting the ground of ori- 
ginal equality^ would drive the theorist to maintain that the 
ineniiality which exists must always be universal, and not par- 
ticular, altliough all the instances we actually meet with are 
particular only. Now surely we have no right to give any 
‘luari credit for genius in more things than he has shown a 
patticular genius iiu In looking round xis in the world, it is 
most certain that we find men of large general capacity and 
yo particular talent, and others with the most exo^uisite turn 
for some particwlar thing, and no general talent. Would Dr 
Johnson have made Ileynolds or Goldsmith, Burke, by be- 
ginning early and continuing late? We should make strange 
h^voc by this arbitrary transposition of genius and industry. 
Some persons cannot tor tlieir lives understand the first })ro- 
position in Euclid. Would they ever make great niatheiiiaa 

86 Life of Sir Jbshua Reyiwlds* Aug* 

ticians? Or doos this incapacity preclude them from ever ex- 
celling In any other art or mystery ? Swift w'as admitted by 
special grace to a Bachelor’s Degree at Dublin College, wbidh, 
however, did not prevent him from writing Gulliver’.^ Travels: 
and Claude Lorraine was turned away by his niastcy from the 
trade of a i)astry-cook to which he was apprenticed, for sheer 
stupidity. People often fail most in what they set themselves 
most diligently about, and discover an unaccountable knack at 
something else, without any effort or' even consciousness that 
they possess it. One great proof and beauty of works of true 
genius, is the ease, simplicity, and freedom from conscious effort 
which pervades them. Not only in different things*'is there this 
difference of skill and aptness elispbyed ; but in the same thing, 
to which a man’s attention is continually directed, how narrow 
is the sphere of human excellence, how distinct the line of pur- 
suit which nature has marked out even for those wliom she 
has most favoured! Thus in painting, Raphael excelled hi 
drawing, Titian in colouring, Rembrandt in chiaro scuro, A 
small part of nature was revealed to each by a peculiar felicity 
of conformation ; and they would have made sad work of it, if 
each had neglected his (iwn advantages to go in search of those 
of others, on the principle that genius is a large general capa- 
city, transferred, by will or accident, to some particular channel. 

Jt may be said, that in all these cases it is habit, not nature, 
that produces the disqualification for different pursuits. But if 
the bias given to the mind, by a particular study, totally unfits 
it for others, is it not probable that there is something in the 
nature of tliose studies which requires a particular bias and 
structure of tlie faculties to excel in them, from the very first? 
If genius wxTe, as some pretend, the mere c\xercise of general 
power on a parciculai’ subject, writhout any difference of organs 
or suboniinate faculties, a man would improve equally in every 
thing, and grow wise at all points. But if, besides mere gene- 
ral power, there is a constant exercise and sharpening of differ- f 
ent organs and faculties requiredforajiypailicular pursuit, then 
a natural susceptibility of those organs and fiM?ulties must grcat-\ 
ly assist him in his progress. To argue otherwise, is to shut one’s 
eyes to tlie whole mass of inductive evidence; and to run head- 
long into a dogmatical theory, depending wholly on presump-* 
tioTj and conjecture. We would sooner go the whole length of 
the absurdities of craniology, than get into this flatting-machine 
of the original sameness and indiscriminate tendency of men’s 
faculties and dispositions. A painter, pf all men, should not giwe 
into aiiy such notion. Docs he pretend to see differences in 
faces, aud will he allow none in minds ? Or, does he make the 



Li/c of Sir Joshua Reynolds^ 

outline of the head the criterion of a corresponding difference 
of character, and yet reject all distinction in the original con- 
formation of the soul ? Has he never been struck with family 
' likenesses ? And is there not an inherent, indestructibfe, and 
inalrenablo character to be found in the individuals of such fami- 
Jigs answering to this physiognomical identity, even in remote 
branches, where there has been no communication when young, 
and where the situation, pursuits, education, and character ol* 
the individuals have been totally opposite ? Again, do we not 
find persons wdth ever}" external advantage, without any intel- 
lectual supQji'iority ; and the greatest prodigies emerge from the 
greatest obscurity ? Whnt made Shakespeare ? Not his edu- 
cation as a link-boy or a deer- stealer ! Have there not been 
tJ)onsands of mathematicians, educated like Sir Isaac Newton, 
who have ri?sen to the rank of Senior Wranglers, and never 
been heard of afterwards ? Did not Hogarth live in the same 
age with Hayman ? Who will believe that Highmore coiild, 
by any exaggeration of circumstances, have been transformed 
into Michael Angelo ? That Hudson w^as another Vandyke /«- 
co<j^mio; or that Keynolds would, as our author dreads, have 
Teamed to paint like his master, if he had staid to serve out his 
apprenticeship with him ? The thing was impossible. — Hudson 
had every advantage, as far as Mr Faringtoif s mechanical tlieo- 
ry goes (for lie was brought up under liichardson), to enable 
him to break through the trammels of custom, and to raise the 
dogtnierate style of art in his day. Why did he not ? He had 
n(^t original force of mind either to inspire liim w'ith the concep- 
tion, or to impel him to execute it. Why did Reynolds burst 
Oirough the cloud that overhung the region of art, and shine 
out, like the glorious sun, upon his native land ? Because he 
Ijad the genius to do it. It was nature working in him, and 
forcing its way through all impediments of ignorance and fa- 
yshion, till it found its native element in undoubted excellence 
1 and wide-spread fame. HU was formed to drink in ligh^ 

> and to absorb tlm splendid effects of shadowy obscurity; and it 
gave out what it took in. He had a strong intrinsic perception 
of grace and exjjression ; atid he could not be satisfied with the 
stiff, formal, inanimate models he saw before him. There are 
i indeed certain minds that seem formed as conductors to truth 
and beauty, as the hardest metals carry off the electric fluid, and 
round which all examples of excellence, whether in art or na- 
ture, play harmless and ineffectual. Reynolds was not one of 
these ; but the instaiil he saw gorgeous truth in natural objects, 
or artificial models^ his mind ‘ darted contagious fire. ' It is 
said that he surpassed his servile predecessors by a more di- 

Life of Sir JosJtrm Reynoltk. Aug^ . 

ligent studj’^, ami mere careful imitation of nature. But how 
was he aUracteci to nature, but by the sympathy of real taste 
and genius? lie also copied the })ortraits of (huidy, an ob« 
scure but excellent artist of his native county. A blockhead . 
would have copied his master, ^and despised Gandy : butlSaTii» 
dy^s style of })ainling satisfied and stimulated his ambition, be- 
cause he saw nature there. Hudson’s made no impression bn 
him, because it presented nothing of the kind. Why then did 
Reynolds perform what he did ? From the force and bias of 
his genius. Why did be not do more? Because his natural 
bias did not urge him farther. As it is the property of genius 
to find its true level, so it cannot rise above it. He seized up- 
on and naturalized the beauties of Rembrandt and Rubens, bev 
cause they were connate to his own turn of mind. He did not 
at first instinctively admire, nor did he ever, witli all his pro- 
fessions, make any approach to the high qualities of Kajiluiel or 
Mi^h.ael Angelo, because there was an obvious incompatibility 
between them. Sir Joshua did not, after all, found a school of 
his own in general art, because he had not strength of mind for 
it. But he introduced a better taste for art in this country, be- 
cause he had great taste liiinself, and sufficient genius toH*ans» 
plant many of the excellences of others. 

Mr Faringioii takes the trouble to vindicate Sir Josluui’s 
title to be the author bf his own Discourses — though this is a 
subject on which we have never entertained a doubt ; and con- 
ceive indeed that a doubt never could have arisen, but from es- 
timating the talents required for painting too low in the scale 
of intellect, as something mechanical and fortuitous ; and from 
making literature sometliing exclusive and paramount to all 
other pursuits. Johnson and Burke were equally unlikely to 
have had a principal or considerable hand in the Discourses. 
They have none of the pomp, the vigour, or m/m?icnsm of tlie 
one, nor the boldness, originality, or extravagance of the o- 
ther. They have all the internal evidence of being Sir Joshua’s.' 
■Ipieyare subdued, mild, unaffected, ihoughtful, — containing sen-^ i 
sible observations on which he laid too little stress, and vague * 
theories which he was not able to master. There is the same 
character of mind in what he wrote, as of eye in what he paint- 
ed. His style is gentle, flowing, and bland: there is an inefli- . 
cient outline, with a mellow^, felicitous, and deliglitful filling- 
up.''^ In both, the ta«te prcdomiimtcs over the genius: the man- 
ner over the matter ! The real groundwork of Sir Joshua’s 
Discourses is to be found in Richardson’s Essays. 

W'e proceed to Mr F.’s account of tlic state of art in this 
pountry, a little more than half a century ago, which is go Ipsi^ 


USIQ. IJifc of Sir Joshita Rcijnoldit. 

accurate than it is deplorable. It may lead us to form a better 
estimate of the merits of Sir Joshua in rescuing it from this 
lowest point of degradation, and perhaps assist our conjectures 
as to its future progress and its present state- 
. Mt was the lot of Sir Joshua Reynolds to be destined to pursue 
the art of painting at a period when the extraordinary effort he made 
came with all the force and effect of novelty. He appeared at a 
time when tlie art was at its lowest ebb. What might be called an 
English school had never been formed. All that Englishmen had 
done was to copy, and endeavour to imitate, the works of eminent 
men, who were drawn to England from other countries by encou- 
ragement, njiich there was no inducement to bestow upon the infe- 
rior efforts of the natives of this island. In the reign of Queen Eli- 
zabeth, Frederigo Zucqhero, an luHan, was much employed in Eng- 
land, as had been Hans Holbein, a native of Basle, in a former 
reign. Charles tlic First gave great t^mployment to Rubens and 
Vandyke. They wene succeeded by Sir Peter Lely, a native of 
Soest in \Vest])halia ; and Sir Godfrey Kneller came from Lubec to 
be, for a while, Lely's competitor : and after his death, he may bo 
said to have had the whole command of the art in l^mgland. He 
was succeeded by Richardson, the first English painter that stood 
at the head of portrait painting in this country. Richardson had 
merit in his profession, but not of a high order ; and it was remark- 
able, that a man w^ho thought so well on the subject of art, and more 
especially who practised so long, should not have been able to do 
more than is manifested in his works. He died in 1745, aged 80, 
Jervais, the friend of Pope, was his competitor, but very inferior to 
him. Sir James Thornhill, also, w^as contemporary with Richard- 
son, and painted jiortmits ; but his reputation was founded upon his 
historical and allegorical compositions. In St Paul's cathedral, . in 
tJie Hospital at (ireenwich, and, at Hampton Court, his principal 
works are to be seen. As Richardson in portraits, so Thornhill ia 
history painting was the first native of this island, who stood preemi- 
nent in the line of art he pursued at the period of his practice. Ho 
^dit-'d in 1732, aged 56. 

‘ Horace Walpole, in his Anecdotes of Painting, observes, that 
“ at the accession of George the First, the arts were sunk to the 
) lowest state in Britain. " This was not strictly true. Mr Walpole, 
who published at a later time, should have dated the period of their 
utmost degradation to have been in the middle of the last century, 
when the names of Hudson and Hay man were predominant. It is 
true, Hogarth w'as then well known to the public ; but he was less 
so as a painter than an engraver, though many of his pktti?rs repre- 
senting subjects of humour and character arc excellent; and Hayman, 
as a history painter, could not be compared with Sir James Thorn- 

* Thomas Hudson was a native of Devonshire. Ills name will 
be preserved from his having been tlic artist to wliom Sir Joshua 

f>f> Life of Sir Joshua Un/nolds, Aitg. 

Reynolds was committed for instruction. Hudson was tlic scholar 
of Richardson, and married hia daughter ; r,nd after the death of his 
father- in-law, succeeded to tlic chief employment in portrait paints 
ing. He was in all respects much below his master in ability ; but . 
being esteemed the best artist of his time, commissions flowed in up*- 
on him ; and liis business, as it might trul> be ternmd, was carried oil 
like that of a manufactory. To his ordinary heads, draperies were 
added by painters who chiefly confined themselves to that line of 
practice. No time was lost by Hudson in the study of character, or 
in the search of variety in the position of his figures : a few formal 
attitudes served as models for all his subjects ; and the dkploy of 
arms and hands, being the more difficult parts, was managed with 
great economy, by all the contrivances of concealment. 

‘ To this scene of imbecile performance, Joshua -Reynolds was 
sent by his friends. He arrived in London on the 14th of October 
1711, and on the 18th of that month he was introduced to his future 
preceptor. He was then aged seventeen years and three months. 
The terms of the agreement were, that provided Hudson approved 
him. he was to remain four years : but might be discharged at plea- 
sure. He continued in this situation two years and aimlf, during 
which time he drew many heads upon paper ; and in his attempts in 
painting, succeeded so well in a portrait of Hudson's cook, as to 
cite his master's jealousy. In this temper of mind, Hudson availed him- 
self* of a very trifling circumstance to dismiss him. Having one even- 
ing ordered Reynolds to take a picture to Van Haaken the drapery 
painter ; but as the weather proved wet, he postponed carrying it till 
next morning. At breakfast, Hudson demanded why he did not take 
the picture the evening before Reynolds replied, that he delayed 
ir on account of ihe weather ; but that the picture was delivered that 
morning before Van Haaken rose from bed. '' Hudson then said, 

You have not obeyed my orders, and shall not stay in my house.” 
On ibis peremptory declaration, Reynolds urged that he might be 
allowed time to write to his father, who migiit otherwise thmk he 
had committed some great crime. Hudson, though reproached by 
his own servant for this unreasonable and violent conduct, persisted 
in his determination ; accordingly, Reynolds went that day from 
Hudson's house to an uncle who resided in the Temple, and from 
thence wrote to his father, who, after consulting hi.s neighbour Lord\' 
EJgcuriibc, directed him to come down to Devonshire. 

^ Thus did our great artist commence his professional career. 
Two remarks may be made upon this event. First, by quitting Hud- ^ 
json af'this early period, he avoided the danger of having his mind * 
and his hand habituated to a mean practice of the art, which, when 
established, is most difficult to overcome. It has often been observed 
in the works of artists who thus began their practice, that thoug|) 
they rose to marked distinction, there have been but few who could 
wholly divest themselves of the bad effects of a long- continued cj^er- 
cise rf the eye and the hand in copying ordinary works. In Hnd* 

1820 * 


Ij^e StT Joshua- Rej/nohlsm 

son’s school, this was fully manifested, Mortimer and Wright of 
Derby were his pupils. They were both men of superior talents ; 
but in Portraits they never succeeded beyond what would be called 
mediocre performance. In tliis line their productions were tasteless 
and laboured : fortunately, however, they made choice of subjects 
more congenial with their minds. Mortimer, charmed w'ith the wild 
spirit of Salvator liosa, made the exploits of lawless banditti the 
chief subjects of his pencil ; while Wright devoted himself to the 
study of objects viewed by artificial light, and to the beautiful effects 
of the moon uj>on landscape scenery : yet, even these, though deserv- 
ing of great praise, the effects of their early practice, werd but too 
apparent ; pictures being uniformly executed with what artists 
call a heavy hand. ’ p. 1 9. 

. This is a humiliating retrospect for the lovers of art, and of 
their country. In sj)oculattiig upon its causes, vve are half 
afraid to hint at the probable effects of Climate, — so much is it 
now the fashion to decry what was once so much overrated. 
Our theoretical opinions are directed far more frequently by a 
spirit ♦)f petulant contradiction than of fair incjuiry, \Vc de- 
tect errors in received systems, and then run into the contrary 
extreme, to show how wise wc are. Thus one folly is driven out 
iiy another; and the history of philosophy is little more than 
an alternation of blind prejudices and shallow paradoxes. Thus 
climate was every thing in the days of Montesquieu, and in. 
our day it is nothing. Yet it was but one of many cooperating 
causes at first — and it continues to be one still. In all that re- 
lates to tlie senses, physical causes may be allowed to operate 
very materially, withoiii much violence to experience or proba- 
bility, ‘ Arc the Ei/glish a Musical people? ' is a question that 
been debated at great length, and in all the forms. But whe- 
ther the Italians are a musical people, is a question not to 
be asked, any more than whether they have a taste for the fine 
arts in general. Nor docs the subject ever admit of a question, 
.where a faculty or genius for any particular thing exists in the 
fmost eminent degree ; for then it is sure to show Itself, and fierce 
its vs'ay to the light, in spite of all obstacles. That which no 
me ever denied* to any people, we may be sure they actually 
possess: that which is as often denied as allowed them, we may 
De sure they do not possess in a very eminent degree. That, to 
which we make the angi'icst claim, and dispute the most about, 
whatever else may bo, is not our Jorte, The French are allow- 
ed by all die world to be a dancing, talking, cooking people. 
If the English were to set up the same pretensions, it w ould be 
^diculous. But then, they say, they nave othei* excellences j 
and having these, they would have die former too. They think 
U hard to be set down as a dull, plodding people : but is it not 

S2 Lifi of Sir Joshm Jiiyfwkh. Awg* 

equally hard upon others tp be called vain and light ? ThejrteIJi 
ns, they are the wisest, tlie freest, and ipost moral people on the 
face of the eartli, without the frivolous accomplishments of their 
neighbours ; but they insist upon having these too, to be upon 
a par in evcjy thing with the rest of the world. We have our 
bards and sages (‘ better none’), our prosfv writers, our matW 
maticians, our inventors in usefol and mechanic arts, our legiSr 
lators, our patriots, our statesmen, and our fighting-men, in the 
field and in the ring:— in these "we challenge, and justly, all 
the world. We are not behindrband with any people in all that 
depends on hard thinking and deep and firm feeling, on long 
heads and stout hearts: — But why must we excel al^ in the re- 
verse of those, — in what depends on lively perceptions, on quick 
sensibility, and on a voluptuous effeminacy of temperament aiul 
character? An Englishman does not ordinarily pretend to 
combine bis own gravity, plainness and reserve, with the levity, 
loquacity, grimace, and artificial politeness (as it is called) of a 
Frenchman. Wliy tlien will he insist upon engrafting the fine 
upon the domestic arts, as an indispensable consummation of 
the national character? We may indeed cultivate them as an 
experiment in natural history, and produce specimens of thcrue 
and exhibit them as rarities in their kind, as we do hot-house 
plants and shrubs; but they are not of native growth or origin. 
They do not spring up in die open air, but shrink from the 
averted eye of Heaven, like a Laplander into his hut. They 
do not sit as graceful ornaments, but as excrescen^'os on the 
English cliaraclcr ; they are * like flowTrs in our caps, dying or 
ere they sicken ; ’ — they are exotics and aliens to the soil. We 
do not import foreigners to dig our canals, or construct our ma- 
chines, or solve difficult }>roblt*ms in political economy, or write 
Scotch novels for us — but we import our dancing-masters, our 
milliners, our Opera - singers, our valets, and our travelling 
cooks, — as till lately we did our painters and sculptors. 

The Engl idi (we take it) arc a nation with certain decided' 
features and predominating traits of cliaracter ; and if they have 
any cliaractcristics at all, this is one of thcirij that their feelings^ ‘ 
are internal nitlicr than external, reflex rather thap organic, 

— and that tficy are more inclined to contend with })ain than to, 
indulge in pleasure. * The stern genius of the North, ’ says ^ 
iSclilt'gcl, ‘ throw's men biick upon ilicmscivcs. ’ — The progress ^ 
of the Fir>e Arts has hitherto been slow, and wavering and un- 
pronn'sing in this country, ‘ like tlie forcetl pace of a shuffling 
nag, ■ pot like the flight of Pegasus ; and their encouragement 
has been cold and backward in proportion. They have been 
wooed and wou— as far as they have been won, which is no fur- 

f}f Joshua Iltyiiotds. f)S 

ther than to a mere promise of marriage—* with C03', reluc- 
tant, amorous defey.*’ 'Fhcy have not rushed into our em- 
braces, nor been mrnglcd in oUr chiily pastimes and pursuits^ 

* It is two hirndred ancl fifty years since this island was civilked 
to all ofhei* intellectual jmrposes r birt, till witliin half a ccntii- 
ryiif it was a desert and a wa^e in art. Were there no /prror 
jif/u in those daj^s ; no brood of giants to spring out of the 
ground, and launch the mighty fragments of genius from their 
handle; to beautify and enrich the public mind ; to hang up the 
fights of the eye and of the so6f in pictured halls, in airy porti- 
coes, and solemn temples ; to illumine the land, and weave a 
garland for their own lieads, like ‘ the crown which Ariadne 
wore upon her bridaWay, * and w^hicli still shines brighter in 
heaven? There were: but ‘ their affections did not that way 
tend. They were of the tribe of Issachar, and not of Judah.- 
Thcro w’ere two sisters, Poetry and Riiirting ; one was taken, 
and the other was left. 

Were our ancestors insensible to the charms of nature, to 
the music of thought, to deeds of virtue or heroic enteri)rise ? 
^0- But they saw them in their miners eye : they felt them 
at their Jieart’s core, and there only. They did not tratisfate 
their perceptions into the language of sense: they did not em- 
body them in visible images, but in breathing words. They 
were more taken up with what an object suggested to com- 
bine with the infinite stores of fancy or trains of feeling, than 
with the single object itself; more intent upon the moral in- 
ference, the tendency and the result, than the appearances of 
things, however imposing or expressive, at any given moment 
df time. If their first impressions were less vivid and cx)m- 
plete, their after- reflections were combined in a greater va- 
riety of striking resemblances, and thus drew a diiz/jing veil o- 
ver fheir merely sensitive impressions, which deadened and neu- 
^tralized them still more. \VilJ it be denied that there is a wide 
I difference, as to the actrml result, between the mind of a l^oeC 
Mnd a Painter ? Why then aliould not this difference be inlie- 
rent and original, as it undoubtedly is ip individuals, and, to 
all appearance, in nations ? Or whj^ shoulti we be uneasy be- 
cause the same country does not teem with all varieties and 
witli cacli extreme of excellence and gi^ius ? ^ 

* We are aware that time conquers even nature, and that the cha* 
i;acters of nations change with a total change of circumstances. The 
modern Italians are a very different race of people from the ancient 
Romans. This gives us some chance. In the decomposition and 
degeneracy of the sturdy old EngKsh character, which seems fast 

M Ijifi ^ Sir Joshua Beynclds^ Aug. 

In this importunate theory of ours, we misconstrue nature, a^ad 
tax Providence amiss. In that s!iort, but delightful season of 
the year, and in that part of the country where we now write, 
there are wild woods and banks covei cd w’ith primroses and hya- 
cinths for miles together, so that you cannot put ycur foot be^ 
tween, and with a gaudy show ‘ empurpling all the givund, ^ and 
branches loaded with nightingales whose leaves tremble with 
their liquid notes : Yet the air does not resound, as in happier 
climes, w^ith shepherd’s pipe or roundelay, nor are the village- 
maids adorned with wreaths of vernal flowers, ready to weave 
the braided dance, or * returning with a choral soug, when e- 
vening has gone down. ’ What is the reason ? ‘ We also are 

not Arcadians ! ’ We have not the same animal vivacity, the 
same tendency to external delight and show, the same car for 
melting sounds, the same pride of the eye, or voiiipuiousiiess of 
tbe heart. The senses and the mind are diflercntly constituted; 
and the outward influences of things, climate, mode of life, na- 
tional customs and character, have all a share in producing the 
general effect. Wc should say tliat the eye in warmer climates 
drinks in greater pleasure from external sights, is more open 
and porous to them, as the ear is to sounds ; that the sense of 
immediate delight is fixed deeper in* the beauty of the object; 
that the greater lile and animation of character gives a greater 
spirit and intensity of expression to the face, making finer sub- 
jects for history and portrait ; and that die circumstances in 
which a people are placed in a genial atmosphere, are more fa- 
vourable to the study of nature and of the human form. Claude 
could only have painted his landscjfpes in the open air ; and the 
Greek statues were little more than copies from living, every- 
day forms. 

Such a' natural aptitude and relish for the impressions of 
fense gives not only more facility, but leads to greater pa- 
tience, refinement, and perfection in the execution of works of 
art. What our own artists do is often up-hill work, against 
the grain : — not persisted in and brought to a conclusion for thg;^ 
love i after the fiivt dash, after the subiect is 

got in,rl|Ptbc gi^oss getieral effect produced, they grudge all 
the rest of tljeir labour, as a waste of time and pains. Their 
object not to look at iAsture, but to have their picture exhi->^ 
biled and sold^ The want of intimate sympathy with, and en- 

approacliing, the mind and muscles of the country may be sufficient- 
ly relaxed and softened to imbibe a taste for all the refinements of 
luxury and show ; and a century of slavery may yield us a crop of 
the Fine Arts, to be soon buried in sloth and barbarism again. 


18 ^ 0 . 

lAfs of Sir Joshua Reynolds. VH 

tir^ repose on nature, not only leaves their prodiirtlons hard, 
violent, and crude, but frequently renders them impatient, wa- 
vering, and dissatisfied with their own walk oF art, and never 
oasy till they get into a diflerent or higher one, where they 
think ihey <;gn earn more money or iiinie with less trouble. By 
beginning over again, by having the same preliminary grounil 
to go over, witli new subjects or bungling experiments, they 
seldom arrive at tliat nice, nervous point that trembles on per- 
fection. This last stage, in which art is as it were identified 
with nature, an English j>aiiiter shrinks from with strange re- 
pugnance and peculiar abhorrence. Tlie Frcncii style is the 
reverse of ours: it is all dry finishing without effect. We see 
faults, and, as wc conceive, their general incapacity for 
but we cannot be persuaded to sec our own. 

' The want of encoin agement, whicli is sometimes set up as an 
all-suflicicnt plea, will hardly account for this slow and irregu- 
lar progress of English art. There was no premium offered for 
the pivdiictiou of dramatic excellence in the age of Elizabeth: 
there was no ?»oci(?ty for the encouragement of works of wit and 
luiniour in the reign of Cluirlcs 11. : no committee of taste ever 
wJh'il Congreve, oi Steele, or Swift, a silver vase, or a gold me- 
dal, for their comic vein : Hogarth was not fostered iri the an- 
nual exhibitions cf the Royal Academy. In plain truth, that 
is not the way in which that sort of harvest is produced. The 
seeds must be sown in the inhid : there is a fulness of the blood, 
a plethoric habit of thought, that breaks out with the first op- 
portunity oil the surface of society. Poetry has sprung up iii- 
digenousiy, spontaneously, at all times of our history, and un- 
der all circumstances, with or without encouragement: it is 
tlmreforc a rich, natural product of the mind of the country, 
unforced, unpampered, unsophisticalod. It is obviously and en- 
tirely genuine, * the unbought grace of life.’ If it be asked, 
why Painting has all this lime kept back, has not dared to show 

! « face, or retired ashamed of its poverty and deformity, the 
nswer is plain — because it did iK>t shoot out with equal vigour 
lid luxuriance from the soil of English genius — because it was 
not the native language and idiom of country. Why theUi 
arc we bound to suppose that it w^ill «;hoot up nozi: to an une- 
jjiiallcd height — why are we confulently told and required to 
predict to others that it is about to produce wonders, when we 
see no such thipg; when these very persons tell us that there 
has been liitberto no such thing, but that it must and sliall be 
revealed in their time and persons? And though they conqnnin 
that that public patronage which thev invoke, and which they 
pretend is alone w^uiting to produce tlie high and palmy stat^? 

9G Life (f jSh* Jaslim Ilrr/nolds. Ang, 

of art to w]i5ch they would have us look forward, is entirely and 
scandalously witlihehl from it, and likely to be so ! 

Wc turn from this subject to anoihcr not less melancholy or 
singular, — from the imjierfcct and jil)ortive attempts at art in 
this country formerly, to its present state of degeneracy and de- 
cay in Italy. Spealcing of Sir Josliiiii’s arrival at Rome in tb© 
year 174J), Mr Faiington indulges in the following remarks. 

* On Ills arrival at Komc, he found Pompeo Battoni, $t native of 
Lucca, possessing the liigliest reputation. His name was, indeed, 
known in every part of Europe, and was every where spoken of as 
almost another Raphael ; but in that great school of ^rt, such was 
the admiration he excited, or rather such was the degradation of taste, 
that the Students in painting hud no higher ambition than to he,^ 

‘ Battoni had some talent, but his works arc dry, cold, and insipid. 
That such performances should have been so extolled in the very 
seat and centre of the fine arts, seems wonderful. But in tius manner 
has public taste been operated upon ; and from the period when art 
was carried to the highest point of excellence known in modem 
times, it has. thus gradually declined. A succession of artists fol- 
lowed each other, who, being esteemed the most eminent in th^ir 
own time, were praised extravagantly by an ignorant publie ; and in 
the several schools they established, their own productions were the 
only objects of study. 

* So widely spread was the fame of Battoni, that, before Rey- 
nolds lefV England, his patron, Lord Edgeumbe, strongly urged 
the expediency of placing himself under the tuition of so great a 
man. This recommendation, however, on seeing the works of that 
master, he did not choose to follow : which showed that he w^as then 
above the level of those whose professional views all concentrated in 
the productions of the popular favourite. Indeed nothing could Be 
more opposite to the spirited execution, the liigh relish of colour, and 
])ow'erruI efft-ct, wdiich the works of Reynolds at that time possessed, 
than the tame and inanimate pictures of i^ompeo Battoni. Taking a 
wiser course, tlierefore, formed his own plan, and studied chiefly 
in the Vatican, from the w'orks of Michael Angelo, Raphael, andi 
Andrea del Sarto, witJi grcal diligence ; such indeed was hisapplica^^*.^ 
lion, that to a severe which he caught in those apartinents, he 
owed the deafness wluch coniinucd during the remainder of his life. ’ 

p. :ji.‘ 

This account may serve to show that Italy is no longer Italy 
wliy it is so, is a question of greater difficulty. The soil, the cli- 
iriato, the religion, the people are the same ; and die men and wo- 
men ir» the streets of Rome still look as if they had walked out of 
Ilaphaelks pictures ; but there is no Raphael to paint them, nor 
does anv Leo arise to encourage them. Tliis seems to prove that 
the perfection of art is the destruction of art : that the modelff*of 


Life ^ Sir Joshua ileynolds. 

this kind, by tlieir accuuialation, block up the path of genius; and 
Hiat all attempts at distinction lead, after a certain period, to a 
lifiere lifeless copy of what has been done before, or a vapid, dis- 
ibrted, and eatravagant caricature of it. This is but a poor pfos- 
bect for these w*ho set out late in art, «and who hate all the excel- 
iQpce of-their predecessors, and all the fastidious refinements of 
their own taste, the temptations of indolence, and tlie' despair 
of vanity, to distract and encumber their efforts. The artists 
who revel in the luxuries of genius thus pre})ared by their pre- 
decessors^ clog their wings with the honeyed sweets, and get 
drunk wiilwJie intoxicating nectar. They become servitors and 
lacqueys ta Art, not devoted servants of Nature; — the flutter- 
ing, foppish, la2y retinue of some great name. Tiie contem- 
plation ol‘ unattainable excellence casts a film over their eyes; 
and unnerves their hands. They look on, and do nothing. In 
Italy, it costs tliem a mpntli to paint a hand, a year an eye : the 
feeble peiK'il drops from their grasp, while they wonder to see 
Mi Engliblunan make a hasty copy of the Transfiguration, turn 
oyer a port-»folio of Piranesi’s drawings for their next historical 
design, and read Winckehuan on vir/u! We do much the 
same here, in all our collections and exhibitions of modern or 
ancient paintings, and of the Elgin marbles, to boot. A pic- 
lar6-®Uery serves very well for a place to lounge in, and talk 
about; but it does not make the student go home and set hear- 
tily to work be would rather coinc again and lounge, and 
talk, the next day, and the tlav after that. He cannot do all 
iliat he sees there ; p 4 k 1 less will not satisfy his expansive and re^ 
fined amhitioni He would be all the painters that ever w^cre — or 
lyone. His indolence combines with his vanity, like alternate 
doses of provocatives and sleeping-draughts. Ho copies how- 
ever, a favourite picture, (though he thinks co^Tying bad in ge- 
neral), — or makes a chalk-drawing of it — or gets some one else 
do it for him. — We might go on : but we have written what 
many people w ill call a lamjioon already } 

^ Tkere is another view of tiie subject more favourable and en- 
couraging to ourselves, and yet not iti^ea^urably so, whcii all 
circumstances are considered. All t^at/was j^ossible had been 
forme^'ly done for art in Italy, so that Hiding more was left to 
done* That is not the case with iis yet. Perfection is not 
the insurmountable obstacle to uwr success ; we have enough te 
do, if we knew how. That some inducement to proceed. 
We can hardly be reti'ograde in brfr course. But there is a dif- 
ffcul ty in the way,- — ^no less than our Establishment in Church and 
SUte. Rome was the capital of the Christian and of the civilized 
ivorld. Her mitre swayed the sceptres of the earth ; and the 
voli xxxjw NO. 67. O 


if Sir Joshua JUi/noidt. 

Servant ©f Servants set bis foot on the neck of kbj^ tod. de- 
posed sovereign ^jtfa the signet of the Fisliermai;. Sb^ was 
the eye of the Worlds and her word was a taw. Siie set hisn^ 
up, and said^ < All eyes shall see me, and all kiices shall l|6w 
to me*’ She ruled in the hearts of the people by duffing thiSir 
sense^ and making them drunk with hopes and fears. She 
held in her liands the h^ys of the other world to open or shot ; 
and ^e displayed all the pomp, the trappings, and the pride of 
this. Homage was paid to the persons of her minuters ; her 
worship was adoniea and made alluring by every appeal to the 
passions and imaginations of its" followers* Art was rendered 
tributary to tlie support cf this grand engine of power ; and 
Painting was employed, as soon as its fascination vras felt, to aid 
the devotion, and rivet the faith of the Catliolic believer. Thus 
religion was made subservient to interest, and art was called in 
to aid in the service of this ambitious religion. The patroiH 
saint of everj’^ church stood at the head of his altar : the meek- 
ness of love, the innocence of childhood, ‘ amazing brightness, 

‘ purity^ and truth, ’ breathed fi*om innumerable representa- 
tions of the Virgin and Child ; and the Vatican was covered with 
the acts and processions of Popes and Cardinals, of Christ mid 
the Apostles. The churches were filled with these objects of art 
and of devotion : the very walls spoke. ^ A present de^ they 
^ shout around ; a present deity tne walls and vaulted rbbfs re- 
< bound. * This unavoidably put in requisition all the strength of 
genius, and ail the resources of enthusiastic feeling in the country. 
The spectator svmpathized with the artistes inspiration. No ele- 
vation of thought, no refinement of expression, could outgo the 
expectation of the thronging votaries. The fanc^r of tlie paintor 
was but a spark klndl^ irom the glow of public sentiment. 
This was a sort of patronage worth Having. The zeal and en^ 
thusiam and industry of native genius was stimulated to works 
worthy of such encouragement, and in unison with its own feejk - 
ings. But by degrees the tide ebbed : the current was dried up 
or became stagnant. The churches were all supplied with ab/i 
tar-pm<^es : the niches were full, not only with scriptural sub- 
jects^ bat with the si^ri^ of every saint ^rolled in the calendar, 
or registered in legend^ lore. No more pictures were wanted, 
— and then it was found Aat there were no more painters to dd* . 
them ! The art languished, and gradually disappeared. They 
could not take down the Madona of FoUgno, or new-stucco ^le 
ceiling at Parma, that other ardsts might undo what Uapbad 
and C^rreg^io had done. Some of tliem, to be sur4 did folloVr 
this desperate course ; and spent their time, as in the case of 
Leonardo’s Last. Supper at Milan, in painting over, that is, in 

lAfe qf Sir Joshtui Reynolds, 


defacing the works of their predecessors. Afterwards) they ap- 
plied themsdves to landscape and classical sublets, with great 
. success for a time) as we see in Claude and N. Poussin ; but the 
original stafe Impulse was gcme« 

What confirms die foregoing account) is, that at VenicC) and 
odier places out of the more immediate superintendence of the 
Papal SeC) though there also sacred subjects were in great rc- 

g uest) yet the art being patronized by rich merchants and no- 
leS) took a more decided turn to portraits >mamiiicent in- 
d^) and hitherto unrivalled) for the beauty of. the costumC) 
the character of the faceS) and the marked pretensions of tlic 
persons who sat for them, — ^but still widely remote from that 
public and national interest that it assumed in the Roman 
school. We see, in like manner, that painting in Holland and 
Flanders took yet a different direction ; was mostly scenic and 
ornamental, or coiinncd to local and personal subjects. Ru- 
bens’s pictures, for example, differ from Raphael’s by a total 
Want oif religious enthusiasm and stu(\^ed refinement of expres- 
sion, even the subjects are the same ; and Rembrandt’s 

potttraits ^fier from Titian’s in the grossness and want of ani- 
mation and dignity of his characters. There was an inherent 
difference in the look of a Doge of Venice or one of the Medn 
ci fomily, and that of a Dutch burgomaster. The climate bad 
affected the picture, through the character of the sitter, as it af- 
fected the genius of the artist (tf not otherwise) through the class 
of subjects ne was constantly called upon to paint. What turn 
painting has lately taken, or is likely to take with us, now re* 
mains to be seen. * 

/'With the Memoirs of Sir Joshua Mr Farington very proper- 
-ly connects the histoiy of the institution of the Royal Academy, 
from which he dates tnc hopes and origin of all sound art in this 
'country. There is here at first sight an inversion of the usiial 
I o 0 der of things. The institution of academies in most coun- 
Wteies has been coeval with the decline of art : in ours, it seems, 
is the harbinger, and miun prop of its success. Mr F. thus 
Cr traces the outline ^ this p^rt of his sttb^ectwlth the enthusiasm 
~f an artist) and the fidelity of an hUtpnan. 

^ At this period ( 1760 ) a plan was fonjoied by the artists of the me- 
ll^opolis to draw the attention of their fellow-citizens to their ingeni- 
^ ous labours ; with a view both td an increase of patronage, and the 
cultivation of taste. Hitherto works of that kind produced in the 
cqpntiy were seen only by a few ; the people in general knew nothing 
01 what was passing in the arts. Private collections were then inac- 
cessible, and there were no public ones ; nor any casual display of the 
^ productions of genius, except what the ordinary sales by auction oc- 
' easionally offered. Nothing, therefore, could exceed tiie ignorance 


iOO hife of Sir Joshua Iiej/7ioldi* Aug. 

«f a people who were iit Llienaselvcs learne4> ingenious, aii4 bi|^br 
cultivated in all things, excepting tlip arts of design* 

‘ In consequence of this privation, it was conceived that % Ptttdic 
Exhibition of the works of the most eminent Artists could not fiifl to 
make a powciful impression ; and if occasionally repeatod^ ought u)« 
timately produce the most satisfactory eftects. The scheme was jno 
sooner proposed than adopted; and being carried into itnsoediale 
execution, the result exceeded the most sanguine expectations of 
the projectors. All ranks of people crowded to see the delightful 
novelty ; it was the universal topic of conversation ; and a passion for 
the arts wn^ excited by that first manifestation of native talent, whiohy 
cherished by the continued operation of the same cause, has ever 
since been increasing in strength, and extending its elTects through 
every part of the Empire. 

‘ The hi'^tory of our Exhibitions affords itself the stronge^^t evi^ 
dence of their impressive ellect upon public taste. At tlieir com- 
mencement, though men of enlightened minds could distinguish and 
appreciate what was excellent, the admiration of the many was con- 
fined to subjects either gross or puerile, and commonly to the meaii^ 
est efforts of intellect ; whAcas, at this time, the whole train of sub- 
jects most popular in the earlier exhibitions have disappeared* The 
loaf and cheese, that could provoke hunger, the cat and dhnary-lSrd, 
and the dead niackarel on a deal-board, have long ceased to pioduce 
astonishment and delight ; while truth of imitation now finds innumer- 
able admirers, though combined with the high qualities of beauty, 
grandeur, and taste. 

* To our Public Exhibitions, and to arrangements that followed 
in consequence of their introduction, tfits change must be chiefly at- 
tributed. Thr present generation appears to be composed if a nevo^ and 
at least, •with respect to ihemrtsy a svpeiior order of betngf» Generally 
speaking, tlieir thoughts, their feelings, and language on these sifib - 
jeets differ entirely from what they were sixty years ago. No just 
opinions were at that time entertaioed on the merits of ingenious pvo^ 
ductions of this kind. The state of the pnblic mind, incapable of dis^^ 
criminating excellence from mferiority, proved incontroverdhiy 
a right sense of art in the spectator can only be acquired by long au<H 
frequent observation ; and tJiat, without proper opportunities to iov^i 
prove tlie mind and tlieeye, a oaliob would coiitinue insensible of thw 
true va]|ie of tlic fine ar^ 

^ The first or probathmaiy ExhibUton, which opened April 21st, 
1760, was at a large roam b the Strand, belonging to the Society foa^ 
the Encouragement of Arts, Manufiiotures, and Commerce, which 
had then been instituted five or six years. It is natural to conchide, 
tlmt the first artist in the countxy was not indi&rent to the success 
of a plan which promised to be so extensively useful* Accordtif^Iy, 
four of his pictures were for the first time here placed before the pub- 
lic, with whom, by the channel now opened, be continued in constant; 
intercourse as long as he lived* * 


Ljfe qfStr Joshua Reynolds, 


* Eocouraged by the successful issue of the ^rst cxperiinent^ the 
erHsUeal body determined that it should be repeated the following year. 
Owing, however, to some inconveniences experienced at their former 
place it exhibition, and also to a desire to be perfectly independent in 

proceediiigs, they engaged, for their next public d.splay, a spa- 
douc tooth near the Spring Gardens* entrance into the Park ; at 
asbich place the second Exhibition opened, May 9th, 1701. Here 
Eevnolds sent his fine picture of Iiord Ligonier on horseback, a por* 
traft of the Rev. Laurence Sterne, and three others 

* The artists had now fully proved the efficacy of their plan , and 
thdr income exceeding their expenditure, affording a reasonable hope 
of a permanent establishment, they thought they might solicit a 
Royal Charter of Incoi|>oration ; and having ap}>lied to his Majesty 
for that purpose, he was pleased to accede to their request. This 
measure, however, which is as intended to consolidate the body of 
artiste, was of no avail : on the contrary, if was probably the cause of 

dissolution , for in Jess than four } ears a separation took place, 
W^ich led to the establishment of the Royal Academy, and finally to 
the extinction of the incorporated Society. The charter was dated 
January SGih, 1765: the secession took place lu Gaober, 1768; 
and the Royal Academy was instituted December 10th m the same 
* p* 53. 

^T)n this statement we must be allowed to make a few remarks. 
First, the four greatest names in English art, 1 logarth, Rey- 
nolds, Wilson** and West, were not foimed by the Academy, 
but W'cre formed before it; and the first gave it as Ins opinion, 
that it would be a deatlj-blow to the an. He considered an 
Academy as a school for servile medioci ity, a hotlmd for cabal 
and dirty competition, and a vehicle for the display of idle pie- 
tKisions and empty parade. 

^ Secondly, we agree with the writer as to the deplorable state 
of the art and of the public tai^te in genera), which, at the pe- 
riod in question, was as gross as it was insipid : but we do not 
think that it lias been improved so much since, as Mr Farington 
^willing to suppose; nor diat tbe Aoademy has taken more 
xliiin haff-measures for improving or refining it. 

^ * They foimd it poor at first, and kept it so. ’ 

They have attended to their owA interests, and flattered their 
cusComfirs, while thev have ncglecfkra or cajolecl the public. 
They may indeed look back witli end pity to ^ the cat 

and canfury-bii*d, the dead mackatelii|p Deal board; * but llicy 
tmtm to rest satisfied with this conqwst over thcmselvi^^, and, 
* leaving the thm|^ that arc behind, have pressed forward 
equal ardou^ to the things that are before. * Theirs is a 

* Thte name, for some reason or other, doc^ not once occur in 

(these kJ[einoirs. 

Joshua Aiig^ 

very moderate, not a Radical Reform in this respect. We do 
not find, even in the latest Exhibitions at Somerset Hons^ ^ ini 
numerable examples of truth of imitation, combined : 

high quj^ities of beauty, grandeur, and taste.* 
the pictures exhibited there are not c^ctilated to gim Eng« ^ 
lish peddle a true notion, not merely of high art (as it Is’empha-; 
ticsilty called), but of the gennit^ objects of art ^t, alt* We do^; 
not I^lieve— to take a plain t^t cHT the progress we have made-rr^' 
that nine-tenths of the persons who go there annually, and who 
go through the Catalogue regularly, would know a Guido from 
a 'daub — ^the finest picture from one not badly executed perhaps, 
but done in the worst taste^ and on the falsest principles. Ine 
vast majority of the pictures received there, and hung «p in the 
most conspicuous places, are pictures painted to please the na- 
tural vanity or fantastic ignorance of the artist’s sitters, their 
friends and relations, and to lead to more commissions for half 
and whole lengths — or else pictm^s painted purposely to be seen 
in the Exhibition, to strike across the Great Room, to catch at- 
tention, and force admiration, in the disfraction and dissipation ' 
of a thousand foplish faces and ncw^ilt frames, by gaudy co- 
louring and meretricious grace. We appeal to any man of 
judgment, whether this is not a brief, but true summary, of *'the 
annual show ’ at the Royal Academy ? And is this the way to 
advance the interests of art, or to feshion the public taste? 
There is not one head in ten painted as a study from nature, or 
with a view to bring out the real qualities of the mind or coun- 
tenance. If there is any improvident example of unfa^ 
ahionable sincerity, it is put out of countenance by the prevmi- 
ing tone of rm^i and smiliiig lolly, and affectation all around 
it- . ; ’ ^ 

The only pictures painted in any quanti^ as studies from 
turc, free from the glosses of sormd art imd the tincture of , va- 
nity, BX^partTciits placet; and it caiiUot’be denied tbai there 
are many^i^tliese that have a true and j^worful look of nature:; 
but then, ^ this was a matter of gxeat indififa^^^ and ho-^ 
body’s burih^ <p see to, are 43dom thing more thfgi « 
bare sketches;, hastily g6|; up a ptirihosef^ and \ 
left unfinished to Ti^ are not^ in ^ ^ 

nemh lofiy scenery, but 

mere common their value Oh ihetr' ' 

literal ; ahd;jeip^ consequent, the eCcaci truth had 

perfect identity of is ^ more indisp^sable^-*^^^^ 

pyffx countiyman, Wi!}rie, Jn scon^ of domestic imd 
ii% Is equally deserving praise mr the 
subj^ma, and care in the ^ect^on: : but we have 

JqAm Meynoit^i IftS 

h^ tOp.U in some degree chargeable with that fickleness und de- 
laillomess in the pursuit of excellence, which wehare nc^C^ 
nb<^e as incident to our inative artists, and which, we 
^pit him stationary, instep of being progressive, for some yeadi 
past. ; IJa appeared at one time as if he was^near touching the 
point of in his peculiai* department; and he may^o, 

uyet 1 Bui how small apart do his works form of the ^xhi* 
HSou* and bow unlike all the rest ! 

li was the p^ic*fear that sl\ this daubing and varnishing . 
would be seen through, and the scales fall ofi* from the eyes of 
the public, in consequence of the exhibition of some of the finest 
specimens uf the Old Masters at the British Institution, that 
called into clandestine notoriety that disgraceful production, the 
Catalogtie Maisonnee* The concealed authors of that work coU" 
ceived, that a discerning public would learn more of the art 
from the simplicity, dignity, force and truth, of these admired 
and' lasting models, in a short season or two, than they had done 
from the Exhibitions of the Royal Academy for the last fifty 
il^ears : that they would see that it did not consist entirely in 
tints and varnishes and me^lps and washes for the skin, but 
that all the eflects of colour, and charms of expression, might be 
with purity of tone, with articulate forms, and ext^uisite 
finishing. They saw this conviction rapidly taking place m the 
public mind, and they shrunk back from it ‘ with jealous leer 
maligm * '^Thcy persuaded themselves, and had the courage to 
try to persuade others, that to exhibit approved specimens of art 
in general, selected from the works of the most famous and ac- 
complished masters, was to destroy the germ of native art; was 
cruelly to strangle the growing taste and eiitbnsiasr^of the pub*? 
Uc for art in its very birth ; was to blight the well-earned repu- 
^tion^ and strike at the honest livclilmod of the liberal profes- 
sors of the school of painting in England. They therefore set 
to work to decry these productions as worthless and odious in 
the sighl^ they smeared over, with every epU 

^et <u low abus^ works and names sacred to Ikme^ and to ge- 
, aerations to come; they Wared no pains to heap f^idicuie and 
' pploquy on those who had broimfri work^ forward : they 
1^4 every thing to disgust and nlihd th^ public to their excfl^ 
showing iivthemselves a ^ a loathing of all- 

iMgh ekcellence, and of r^utation in art, in 

wmch paltry vanity and spite were not con- 

cerned. ' TTiey proved, beyond aU cobtradictipn,' that to keejv 
back tlte of the town, and the knowledge of student, (o 
fte pafpt^ which the Acculenw had found it practicable to con- 
duct it itap^mple, was thje olgect qf a powerful and active party 

tm m¥Sir Joshua 

of professional intriguers in this country. If die . Academy hi^ 
nnyhand, directly or indirectly, in this unprincipled 
on taste decency, tlicy ought to be disfranchised (iikn. 
p6und) tchi^now, as utterly unwortliy of the trust rep^d Ut 
them^ . - , . , 

Hie a^arm indeed (in one sense) was not un&i^ed : for 
mwny pm'sons who had long Wen, dazzled, not illumined^ by * 
gWe o'f the most niodcrii and iasbionable productions, bciran 
open their eyes to the beauties ixtiS. loi^inessof painting, and to sen 
rt^ected there as in a mirror those hpos, those eKpressions, those 
Ijdansient and heavenly glances of nature, which bad often charm- 
ed their own minds, but of whicli they could find th^traccs no- 
where else, arid became true worshippers at the shrine of ge- 
nuine art. Whether this taste will spread beyond the imme- 
diate gratification of the moment, or stimulate Ibe rising gene- 
ration to new clfcrts, and to the adaption of a' iicw’^ and purer 
style, is another question ; with regard to which, for reasons 
hove explained, wc are not very sanguine. 

We have a great respect for high art, and an anxiety for its 
advancement and cultivation ; but we have a greater still for the 
advancement and encouragement of true ai t. Tliat is the &gti. 
and the lost step. The knowledge of what is contained in naiui^ 
is the only foundation of legitimate art ; and the perception of 
beauty and power, in whate^^cr objects or in whatever de^ee they 
subsist, is the test of real genius. The principle is the same in 
painting an at'chrangel’s or a butterfly’s wing; and the very 
finest picture in the finest collection may be one of a very auu'- 
mpn subject. We speak and think of Rembrandt as Rein*^ 
brandt, of.J^phacl as Raphael, not of the one as a portrait, of 
the otlier as a history painter. Portrait may bocome history, 
or history portrait, as the one or the Ollier gives the soul or \ 
the mask of the face. ^ That is true history, * said an eminent 
critic, on seeing Titian’s picture of Pope Julius II. and his two ^ 
nephews.^ .He who should set down Cjiatt^O as a niefe land-^ 
scape painter, must know nothing of wbat Claude Was in hip- 
self; and tho^e who class HflgerlS as a paiuter off low life, only 
show their ignorance of humaju nature^ High art does noi 
consist fn high or '1^ the manner of treating 

those subjects; and. us, as far as we have 

proceeded, bas ,wp !t^|^vj^^ false and exceptionable^ \y^ 
appeal from the cotpiil^ on this subject to the Elgin nfar- . 
bl^. They are liigb ar^ confessedly : put they are am true 
art, in our sense ot the vJ'ord. The^.do not deviate from^nidi , 
and nature jn ohJcr to airive at a fimeied superiority |b 
and njiinre. They do not represent a vapid abstraettop, bet 
|[ie Attire, undoubted, concrete object they profess to imitate! 

X^hf Sir JoiAua EtyncXit. lOS 

’Thef are like' casts of the finest living forms in the woHiS, t^* 
ei^ momenfory action. They are nothing morct and the^ 
eertabt great critics who tiafi been eaucatefi in’lhe’idefl 
. edhodl art» think nothing of them. They do not Cifofontt 'to 
a vagaC; unmeaning standard, made out of the fiistidioas likings 
Wdisiifcin^of the artist; tbt^ are carved out of the living, 
itaperishame forms of nature, as the' mnrble of which they are 
eolnposed was hewn from its native rock. They contain the 
truu^ the wh<4e truth, and nothing but the truth. We cannot 
say so much of the general style of histon'-paintlng in this 
country, which hsis proceeded, as a first principle, on the de- 
termined ghd deliberate dereliction of living ntiture, both as 
means and end. Grandeur was made to depend on leaving 
out the details. Ideal grace mid beauty were made to consist 
in neutral forms, and character and expression. The first could 
produce nothing but slovefiliness ; the second nothing but in- 
sipidity. The Elgin marbles have proved, by ocular dcinonstra- 
^on, that the utmost freedom and- grandeur of style is compati- 
^me with the minutest details^ — the variety of the subordinate 
parts not destroying the masses in the protluctions of art more 
thgaiu those of nature. Grandeur without softness and pre- 
cisira, is only anotlier name for grossness. Tliese invalhabld 
fragments of antiquity have also proved, beyond dispute, that 
ideal beauty and historic truth do not consist in middle or 
ieoeragk forms, See. but in harmonious outlines, in unity of ac- 
tion, and in the utmost refinement of character and expression. 
We there see art following close in file footsteps of nature, and 
exalted, raised, refined with it to the utmost extent that either 
was capable of. With us, all this has been reversed; and we 
ave discarded nature at first, only to flounder about, and bn 
lost in a Limbo of Vanity.' With tnem invention rose from the 
ground of imitation ; trim ns, the boldness of the invention was 
acknowledged in pix^rtiUn as no traces of imitation were dis- 
joaverable. Our gremte^ and most successful candidates in the 
wepie walk of art, have bedh thoee who founded their pretensions 
[*to be hi8tery-pifinterS '''o& thei^ l^ being portrsitt-painters. 
lilicy could not paint that whicli .^ey had seen, and therefore 
fitey must be qualified to point which they had not seen. 
^ there was not any one part df their pictures good 

any thing; and therefore the'i^3|i|l^’il^ gmn^ and an ex- 
ample of lofty art ! There was nc^ lm td! probabHil^, a single 
h^ in an acre-c^ canvas, fiiat, taken by itself, was more than 
q wprfiile^ daub, scarcely fit to be hung up as a sign at an aJe^ 
house do^ : But a hundred of these bad peutndts or wretche(| 
l^^tures, mad^ by numerical addition, an admirable faistpri; 

IW ^ Sit Joshua H^ynolit, Aug* 

cfil picture ! The fuce% hand*;, eyes, feet^ hfid neither beauty 
nor expression^ nor drawing nor colouring ; and yet the com- 
position and urranffenient ofthese abortive and crude materials 
which might as well or better have been left blanks dispUyoa 
the mind df the great master. Not one tone» one line^ one look 
for the eye to dwell upon with pure and intense deU^t» in all 
this endless scope of subject and field of canvas* « , 

cannot sa^ that we in general like very large pictures ; for 
this reason, that, like overgrown men, thev are apt to be bullies 
and cowards. They profess a great deaf, and perform little. 
They are often a contrivance not to display magnificent concep- 
tions to the greatest advantage, but to tlirow me spectator to a 
distance, where it is impossible to distinguish either gross faults 
or real beauties. 

The late Mr West^s pictures "were admirable for the compo- 
sition and grouping. In these respects they could not be bet- 
ter ; as we see in the print of the ueatli of Geiitiai Wolfe* but 
for tile rest, he might as well have set up a pared of figures 
in wood, and painted them over with a sign-post brush, anckt 
then copied what be saw, and it would have been just as good. 
His skill in drawing was confined to a knowledge of mechani- 
cal proportions and measurements, and was not guided iiHlKe 
line of beauty, or employed to give force to expression. He, 
however, laboured long and diligently to advance the interests 
df art in this his adopted country ; and if he did not do more, 
it was the fault of the coldness and formality of his genius, not 
of the man.— -Barry was another instance of those who scorn 
nature, and are scorned by her. He could not make a likenesa 
of anyone object in the universe: when he attempted it, he 
was like a drunken man on horseback; his eye reeled, bis hand 
refused its office,— and accordingly he set up for an example ox 
/he great style in ar^ which, like charity, covers all other de- 
fects. It would be unfail at the same time to deny, that some 
of the figures and groupes in his picture of the Olympic Games 
in the Adelphi, are beautiful designs after the antique, as faiK^ 
as ondine is concerned. In cedoor and expression they s^e like 
wild Indians. The other pictures of his tnere, are not worthy 
of notice; except as warnings to the mi^ided student who 
would^cule the high apd abstracted steep of art, without follow^ 
ing the path of nati^ Barry was a man of genius, and an • 

enthusiastif^ lover cf Ida art. But be unftntunately mistook his 
ardent aspiration aft^ excellence ft>r the power to achieve it ; 
assumed the capadty to execute the greatest works instead of 
acquiring it; supposra that ‘ the bodiless creations of his brain^ 
were to start out from the walls of the Adelphi like a dream oi 
a i^ry tide ;<-^d the result has been, that iul the splendid illu- 



Xjft ^ Sir Josfiua Beyndii, 

aiona of his undigested ambition have, ‘ like tlie baseless fabric 
* of a vision, left not a srreck behind. * His name is not a 1 
0r beacon, Jbut a by-word and an ill omen in art. Wbat oe 
baa left bcliind him in writing on the subject, contains mtfdh 
veal fiseling and interesting thought^Mr Fuseli is another dia* 
tinguiUiea artist who complains that nature puts him out. Bat 
Jm distortions and vagaries are German, ana not English : thqr 
lie Uko a night>mare on the breast of our native art. They are 
too recondite, obscure, and extravagant for us : we only want 
to get over the ground with large, clumsy strides, as fast as we 
can ; and do not go out of our way in search of absurdity. We 
cannot con^der his genius as naturalized among us after the 
lapse of more than haii’ a century : and if in saving tliis we do not 
pay him a compliment, we certainly do not intend it as a veiy 
severe censure. Mr Fuseli ha$ wit and woids at will; and, 
though he had never touched a pencil, would be a man of 
traordinary pi ctonsions and talents. 

Mr Havdoii is a young arth»tof groat promise, and much 
Ardour and energy; and has lately painted a pictuie which has 
carried awav universal admiration* Without wishing to de- 
tru g t from that tribute of deserved applause, we may be allow- 
ed w suggest (and with no unfriendly voice) that he has there, 
in our judgment, laid in the groundwork, and raised the scaf- 
folding, oia noble picture; but no more. There is spirit, con- 
ception, force, and effect : but all this is done by the first going 
over of the canvas. It is the foundation, not the superstructure 
of a first-rate work of art. It is a rude outline, a striking and 
piasterly sketch. 

Milton has given us a description of the growth of a plant— 
^ So from the root 

^ Springs lighter the green stalk ; from thence the leaves 
More aity ; last the bright consummate fiower. ' 

And we think this image might be transferred to the slow and 
oerfect growth of works of imamnation. We have in the pre- 
sent instance tlie rough materims, the solid substance and the 
flowing spirit of art ; and only wimt the last finishing and pa- 
tient working up. Does Mr JHhQpdpii think this too much to 
ibestow on works designed to bfl^MKtbc the air of immortality, 
and to shed the fragrance of thca^lt on a distant i Does 
he regard it as beneath him ^ dc^whft Raphael has done? 
We rq»eat here are bold contraate, mstinct grouping, a vi- 

J orous hand and striking conceptions. What remains then, 
i)t that be should add to bold contrasts fine gradations,*— to 
masculine drawing nice infiections,— to vigorous pencilling those 
softened and trembling hues i^ich hover like air on the 
panvas,«T-to massy and prahuneht grouping the exquisite finidi^ 

10 * 

qfSit Joshua Bej/mUs. 


ing of every fiice and Simre, nerve and art^t ao at to have 
each part instinct vith Iifb and thought and aentiment, and to 
produce an impression in die spectator not only that he caak 
touch die actnai substance, ,bat uiat it would shrink fifcNn dM 
touch ? In a word, Mr Hi^on has strength : we would iildAt 
him to add to it refinenttat. Till he does this, be will not raw 
move the common stigma on Briddi art. Nor do we ask iiqpalK " 
aibilidea of him : we mdy adc him to nuAe that a leadhig prin* 
ciple in his pictures, which he has followed so hiqi^y hi partb 
Let him take his own Penitent Giti as a model, ww-punt Up to thia 
standard tbrt^h all the rest of the figures, and we shall he Bar 
tisfied. His Cnrist in the present mcture we do not fike, though 
in this we have no less an authority against us than Mrs Sid- 
dons. Mr Haydon has gone at much length into a description 
of his idea of this figure in the Catalogue, which is a practice 
vre disapprove : for it deceives the ardst himself, and may mis- 
lead the public. In the idea he conveys to ns from the canvas, 
there can be no decepUon. Mr Hayaon is a devoted admirer 
of the Elgin marbles; and he has taken advantage of tbcii^ 
breadth and size and masses. We would urge him to foUow 
them also into their detmls, their involved graces, the te:gime 
of the skin, the indication of a vein or musc!^ the waving line 
of bcau^, their cairn and motionless expression ; into ul, in 
which they follow nature. But to do this, he roust go to na- 
ture and study her more and more, in the greatest and the 
onallest things. In short, we wish to see this ardsl paint a pic- 
ture (he has now every motive to exertion and improvement) 
which shall not only have a striking and imposing effect in the 
aggregate, but where the impressim of the whom shsll be the 
joint and irresistible effect oF the Vdue of every ptot. This i*\. 
our notion of fine art, which wc offer to him, not by way of die- j 
paragement or discouragement^ but to do our best to phiittcito ' 
the cause of troth and the mnladon <ff the hUhest excdtoiee^ 
We had quite fovgotten the chief tdlfect a Mr FarinjB^V 
book. Sir Jodraa’s dispute with the AcadeUfy about Mr Bono-^ 
mi's electiau; and it is too late to return to it now. Wethink,\ 
however, that Sir Joshttt ttoahi the right, and the Academy in 
die wrong; but wc mtort ttlhr those who reqidre our reasons to *' 
Mr Parington’s aOcoo^; w^ though he diflkni from US in hit 
ha* giVtti' die fbeu too foirijr to Juttiftr 



10 » 

Art* V. ^rwoSl9 in Nubia ,• fate John Lcwir Btt7RCic;«« 

H ARDT. Published the Association /at* promoting^ the JNs^ 

^ caoetu of the Interwr Parts of Africa. With Maps^ 

1 VoL 4to. London, Murray, 1819* 

lLir«i Ljcwis Burcxuardt wr$ a young Swiss, employed by tiie 
African Association to make discoveries in that country*. 
Ha ia recently dead ; and the Society are now publishing the 
result of his labours. Thoroughly aware that a great part of 
the faiiure^of African discoveries proceeded from their want of 
previous education in the cogtoms, manners, and languages of 
the East* Mr Burckhardt prepared himself, by the study of 
Arabic, by a residence of six years in Syria and Egypt, by 
journies in Nubia, in Palestine, in Arabia, and in the coun- 
tries between Egypt and the Sen, for his great purpose of 
penetrating into the heart of Africa. His knowledge of Arabic 
%nd the Koran were so great, that after the severest exaniina** 
tion by doctors of the Mahometan law, appointed for that ex- 
press purpose by Mohammed Ali, Pacha of Egypt, he was 
pronounced to be not only a real, but a very learned Mahome- 
tan. But as his skill in Oriental manners and lan^niages im- 
proved, his constitution became more impaired ; and he became 
at last the victim of a tour in Arabia ;-^ying better qualified 
than any other traveller hitherto employed by the Association 
for the purpose of dibcovery iu Africa^ 

He appears from his books and letters to have been a mo- 
des^ laborious, learned, and sensible man; exempt fiom pre- 
judice; unaM^acbed to systems; detailing what he saw plainly 
and correctly; and of very pr^eut and discreet conduct. Tlie 
present publication* cmisists of many of his letters to the Secret 
tary of the African Association and to Sir Joseph Banks, and 
^ the details of two diatiuct tours ; the one from the southern 
rooundatVes of Uppor Egypt to the north of Dongola; the 
^iher from Upper iSgypl, in a iwmib-west divection, through 
ifoendy, JaaiUp to on the Red Sea, and to 

^ Jidda^r Mr Buixkhardt was ttro years and a half in Syria n 
during whicli period he visited PaimyiRji Damascus, the Li** 
bauus and Aiiti-Libanus, imd the uneatplared country of the 
Haoman or Amanistis. After bis final (foparture fix>m Aleppo,* 
his b^-quarimx in Syria, ho revisited Danmcus and the Hao-' 
^nan i and in bis way to Egypt visited Tiberias, Nassaretb, thsr 
oouniries to the eastwaivl, south of the Dead Soa ; and from 
fhence across the Dcseit of El Jyk to Cairo* The first pailf 
itf this publicaijon' eentaint extracts from his correspondence 

mo ^ 

during these tours, and previous to his at^val ilb %ypt* 

In one of these letters he says, • 

* Two Persimi Dervishes arrived here about two months ago, who 
bad lived upwards of two years at the Wahabi court of Deray^.’ 'H 
got acquainted with one of them, a young man of tweffty-two; the 
other Iw gone to Mosul, from whence his companion shortly expects 
bk retom. The latter has been in the habit, singular enough for a 
Mohammedan traveller, of keeping a regular journal of his travels* 
desciihing whatever struck kis inqtusitive mind, and abounding, as I 
understand, with geographical notices. ’ p. xxvii. 

This is a very remarkable drcumstance* A few®inore such 
instances, and the African Association might spare themselves 
the trouble of sending Hornemans and Burckliardts into Africa* 
The difficulty of getting into Tirobuctoo is only to a Christian. 
If the Mahometans wJjo can easily get there begin to read, write, 
and observe, tfie spell that hangs over Africa will soon be bro- 
ken, and the curiosity of learned men receive the long-delaved 
gratification. * ^ 

Among his Arabic exercises, Mr Burckhardt mentions, that 
he had translated Robinson Crusoe into that language, and given 
to it the name of Dumcl Bahur^ the Pearl of the sia. S5me 
of his small or tentative excursions into diflerent parts of Syria, 
appear to have been very unfortunate: twice, in spite of solemn 
bargains with Sheklis and high-blooded Arabs, he is deserted 
and pillaged in the desert, in one of these instances, the rob- 
bers leave him nothing but his breeclies. These he thought to- 
lerably secure ; but he was not yet sufficiently acquainted with 
the manners md customs of the East. A female Arab met him 
with these breeches ; and a very serious conflict for them en-y^ 
sued between the parties. The Association have not stated the 

We are much struck by the perpetual miseries to which this 
traveller is subjected. In all his journies, be seems kick’d and 
cuflTd by the whole party, and subjected to tlie grossest con3^ 
tempt and derision, for the appearance of poverty he always^ 
thought it pindent to assume. His system was, that the less 
display of wealth a man makes in the East, tlie safer he is. . 
This may Be true enough ip general ; but when be travelled wkh 
a caravan ccmtainiiig morchants who had ten or twelve camels, 
and tw^enty or thirty slaves each, he might surely have ventur- 
ed on the display erf' camel, and one or two slaves ; for in 
one journey he travek^Gpon an ass, without a slave; and haq 
in consequence his own wood to cut, his water-skins to fill, and 
bis supper to tlress. He receives as much respect, therefore, 
a man would do who was to rub down his owm horse in Eng- 
land ,* and is well nigh overpowered by the great and uimcces- 

'^B0i^b0c^»..^Pravds in Ni^, 


I violent economy sutgecto Mm. 

►^ot remember that otlicr travellers in Africa, prooee^nig 
ifdtii caravans, have found it necessary to affect such ah mo 
* nmme st^te of pauperism ; and Mr Burckhardt himself adimt% 
that Ali Bey, the pretended Arabian, penetrated everywhere 
the East by the veiy opposite system of magnificence and 
profiision, even though be was su^ected not to be a Mussul* 
man by the natives themselves. 

What has haj^ened to the celebrated sect of the Wahabees 
since the publication of this book, we do not know ; but the re- 
sult of Mr»Burckhardt*s intelligence is, that they were nearly 
crushed by Mohammed Ali, the present Pacha of Egypt. One 
effect of the power of the Wahabees, while it continued, was to 
stop the pilgrim caravan to Mecca; an event which diffused the 
utmost coiisternation among the religious Mahometans, who 
were in the habit of exporting great quantities of coffee from 
the holy city, with considerable profit, to Damascus, Aleppo, 
^nd Constantinople. The good English, hearing of this, with 
their accustomed mercantile alacrity, inmi eel lately poured in 
large quantities of West Indian coffee into Syria, and filled the 
cup^and pocAets, and dried the tears of the orthodox Mussul- 
mans. At present, West Indian coffee has entirely supplanled 
that of Yemen all over Syria, and the Syrian desert. 

In his visit to the peninsula of Mount Sinai, Mr Burckhardt 
meets with a substance which he considers to be the same as 
the manna mentioned in the Books of Moses. 

^ A botanist would find a rich harvest in these high regions, in the 
most elevated parts of which, a variety of sweet scented herbs grow. 
The Bedouins collect to this day the manna, under the very same 
iKrcumstances described in tlie books of Moses. Whenever the rains 
have been plentiful during the winter, it drops abundantly from the 
tamarisk (in Arabic, Tarfa) ; a tree very common in the Syrian and 
Arabian deserts, but producing, as for as 1 know, no manna any- 
here else. They gather it before sunrise, because if left in U>e sun 
melts ; its taste is very sweet, much resembling honey ; they use it 
we do sugar, principally in their dishes composed of fiour. When 
Jpttrified over the fire, it keeps for many mfinths ; the quantity col- 
'mted is inconsiderable, because it is e^it^lusiyely the produce of the 
Tarfa, which tree is met with only in H few vall^^s at the foot of the 
highest granite chain. The inhabitants 6f Ah R^ninsula, amounting 
to almost four thousand, complain of the want of rain and of pastur- 
age : the state of Ae country must therefore be much altered from 
Su^t it was in the time of Moses, when all Ae tribes of Beni Israel 
^nd food Iiere for their cattle. ’ p. Ixvii. 

By this pass^e Ae author does not mean, we presume, tint 
^this substance U only met with m the peninsula of Mount Sinai, 

Burckhardt'^f Travds in Nubut * . 


but tliat it is confiixed to t!ie Syrian and Arabian deserts ; .in- 
deed, in page xlv. he states it to be met with in the Valley.of 
Glior, near the Dead Sea. 

‘ About half ivay (says Mr Burckhardt) from Ras Abou Moham-' 
Died to Akaba, lies Dahab (Deuter.J. 1.), an anchoring place, with 
date plantations, and several moUnds of rubbish covering perhaps an- 
cient Hebrew habitations ; five hours north of Ras Abou Mohamm*^!!^ 
lies the harbour of Sherm, the only one on this coast frequented by 
large ships. In its neighbourhood are volcanic rocks ; I could find 
no others of that description in any part of the Sinai deserts, although 
the Arabs, as well as the priests of the convent, pretend that from 
the mountain of Cm Shommar (about eight hours SI S. W. from 
Djebel Mousa), loud explosions are sometimes heard, accompanied 
with smoke. 1 visited that mountain, but searched in vain for any 
traces indicating a volcano. The library of the convent of Mount 
Sinai contains a vast number of Arabic MSS. and CJreek books ; the 
former are of little literary value ; of the latter I brought away two 
beautiful Aldine editions, a Homer, and an Anthology. The priests 
would not show me their Arabic memorandum books, previous to tlKs^ 
fifteenth century. From thobe 1 saw, I copied some very interesting 
documents concerning the former state of the country, and their 
quarrels with the Bedouins. * p. Ixviii. ^ 

Immediately after this, follows a description of Memiion^s 
Head, and the infinite trouble it occasioned to himself, Mr Salt, 
and Mr Belzoni, in transporting it into England. Wlmt loss 
it would have been lo the aits if they had miscarried in their 
project, we w ill not pretend to appreciate : It has certainly tlie 
inerit of being the largest and heaviest head ever produced by 
the sculptoris chisel. It seems to be a great object with this 
traveller, to infi>rm himself minutely of the state of the Bedouin 
Arabs. It is right to know all; but why are the Bedoufti^^ 
Arabs so great an object with Mr Burckhardt? If they have, 
preservotl tlieir customs unchanged ihrongh many centuries,' 
this is only a proof that they arc a stupid and savage people; ‘ 
but the idea that the ‘ Bedouins are now what they were 126^ 
years ago,-* seems, in the estimation of this gentleman, to 
great subject of panegyric, and a great stimulus to curlosit^i.. 
To us, the greatesft praise which could be bestowed upon any. 
people, and the greatest incentive to study and visit them^ would 
be to liear that they had hot the shape of a tea-pot, nor the cut 
of a coiit^ nor the fashion of a saw, nor a custom, nor a law, 
hor a I’orm of politeness, which had 1200 years ago* 

'n»ere are, in various part^ of this volunw?, allusions lo pub- 
lished and unpublislicd travels, with some of wlilch we sbaif 
endeavour to make our readers better acquainted. 

* I am certain that you take a lively interest in the travels of the 
nafortuunte Seetzen, who was poisOued five years ago in Yemc/Jt/ 

Travels in Nn^a* 


His labours, I pa)n assure you, have been very extensire^, , and con- 

§ ;ed in‘^ etiKghtiinod manner. His intiniat** acquainf^fjce 

all br^ncAies of natural history was applied with inclefalj^^tWe 
to counta^s the most difficult of access, and he had fua^y times 
^,'deirly h*c'oine’B to t&sg pursuits, before he mot with h^^l- 

^''tfemate "It ^ has fidien til |Bfei ^=‘to;4jrace his footsteps, in 

parts of Potrain. and again in the 

t||^yp0toget,her with from the Europeans who 

^ DHmas$«ih, and Cairo, as welj jis from many 

" i^ahs on ha;ve inspired me with as gteata respect for his 

(^^iter, as the dispersed m^mpirs of his mearcltes already 
pubirA^'lfcjui^ give every reader for hitt literal^ atjquiremcnts. Al- 
tiiough ehdpwei| witli a. lively fancy, and even .with considerable poe- 
tical talents, fie of plain truth* If SpAfitimes over fond of 

spccLil riling upon facts wluch he had i^pllect^, yet I am certain 
that, instating tfipse facts, Ke observed iho'spricCcH adherence to 
truth ; and I have h6t the smallest doubt, that if he had lived to pub- 
Jisij the mass of knpwtedge' which he had acquired during his travels, 
he w'ould have fsir excelli^d all travellers who ever wrote on the same 
xi^ntric^.^Mi* Salt has lately 4*own me a letter wdiicU he received 

Mr ilutiand^ then factor at Mokha, ayquainiing him 

^ I of S&t3tcn; which had just taken pfecc;. and making 

same time, of several papers lyhidtii. he had left as u 
pfetNfentifcit. S^ adds, that as IhCji^ ard In ,C5rcnna» he 

ly; hhye thought it 


worthwhile a 'p Uttle 

iirseiihed to, suspect’ they were pnly 
'designs ’and'i%'nptibus of 
of eighteen AtVican'''hjmguagcs, 

.." establfeted'iis 

^tiv ago some mtero0tii^pf ;itiih 

.■|ai«d ,.to 
iif Pyre-he, 
“ 'where tb^ivTe- 

.'^pkhne to,Triptii;^ 
.gj^heeb” 'at “ Fez*!aii, of 


ippWtt to Mr Cervelli^ ’ 

weec sailor conies, ia 

that, I'roin the exttacls 

roi. xxxTV. Ko, 

114 * 

Eiuxkliarcll’i Travels in Nubia^ 


wliich he roacl ia the Qiiaricrly •Review, he believed, the travels 
themselves to be aiitliciuic. The Felata Bedouins who oam^ 
from the neighboiii’Jjood of Tirnbuctoo, gave him life same opr,, 
count of that city as is to be met with i|i Adams. Many der 
tails in Adams he reprehends, audg&biSJlicTves ; but he & clearly 
of opinion, that, in tlie maih, arc authentic. But ot 

all travellers, Batmita seems to Kwe been the greatest. 

^ W'heii 1 first rapidly ran over his hook, I took him for no hettei* 
than Danibergcr the pseudo African traveller ; but a more careful 
perusal has convinced me that he had really been in the places, and 
seen what he describes. His name was Aby Abdallah Mphammed 
Ibn Abdallah el Lowaty el Tandjy, surnamed Ibn Batddf&. He was 
born at Tangier in Barbary, from which place he derives the name 
of Tandjy. He published his travels after the year 755, A. H. They 
consist of a large quarto volume, which is so scarce in Egypt that 1 
never saw it ; but 1 know that a copy exists at Cairo, tliough I was 
not able to discover who was the owner. A small abridgement in 
quarto is more common, and of that 1 have two copies. I shall glvu 
here a rapid sketch of his travels, which lasted for SO years. Be* 
ing a learned man, lie found everywhere a polite and g^erous re- 
ception from Moslini chiefs and kings ; and he lived, a true Der* 
wish, sometimes in great affluence, and sometimes in poverty, ’ p.£B4. 

He then proceeds to give a sketch of Batouta’s travels, v^hich 
is very curious, but too long for insertion. 

< He was the greatest known traveller of any age, as far at least 
as relates to the quantity of ground travelled over. The information 
contained in his complete work, rogardipg the north of Persiaf^iEdia;; 
China, and the interior of Africa, must be invaluable ; anu^ he 
saw inore of Africa than most travellers, I thouj^t it not irreli^vant 
to give the reader the result of my exammation of his abridged wOck.^ 
p.537. , ^ 

Our readers arc perhaps aware, like many ^tbep 

brandies of the Turkish empir&^ri^arly severed from the matA 
body ; and that, under the government of Mohammed 

All, it lately been rendcried safe for trayelleri^ 

and merchants, and ,Aife(gbt, conlp^dyely with its aAiian^ 
turbulence, iiitd After havinj^ 

broken the severd engagements, ho 

allured a great p&t of th^; j^P^lder to Cairo, under the most ^ 
solemn promises of promoti^^^ It is almost 

less to say that he throats. It is rather singular, 

however, that ariotihcr party of Mamelukes should afterward 
suffer themselves to be duped to the same death, in the same 
place, by the same promises. This U flinging away life in 
most foolish manner wx ever , beard of* Mohammed, amOii^ 
0 ther great works, is reopening, the antient canal from Rha«» 


BurckhaijdtV Travels in Nubia. 


manye to Alexandria 9 ^ measure become absolutely neo^ssary^ 
^om the heaps of sand which overwhelm ihe bar of Rosetta. 
Ip 1818 hd carried a causeway across the mouth of the lake 
* B{adye, and in this manner established a land road from Ro* 
setta to Alexandria. Tliis canah which it is calculated will 
employ 60,000 men for two years, at an expense of 2,000,000 
TloUars, will open a water carriage from all parts of Egypt 
to Alexandria, at all seasons of the year. Perhaps the canal 
between the Nile and the Red Sea, will be undertaken after- 
wards by the same enterprising spirit; particularly if the di- 
rect ititercpur^^ with India, whicli he has already set on fool, 
succeeds according to his wishes, and is not opposed by the 
bigotry and illilieiality of the India Company. Mohammed 
All has established a large fabric of muskets at Cairo ; an Ita- 
lian lias set up a guiifiowder manufactory, where he has con- 
stantly 200 men at work ; an Englishman is beginning to esta- 
blish a distillery of rum at the Pacha's expense, and upon a very 
large scale ; 20 ships belonging to the Pacha are trading to 
Italy and Spain, six^ ships in the Ked Sea to Yemen ; and im- 
mense sums have been spent in fortifying Alexandria and the 
Castle of Cairo. 

* Upper Egypt enjoys at present perfect tranquillity, under the 
severe but equitable govemment of Ibrahim Pasha, son of Moham- 
med Aly. The taxes are moderate, and the whole country is equal- 
ly assessed ; no avanies are practised, and the soldiery is kept in 
strict order. By .|ecuJanait^.^a part of the revenues of the churdi, 
such as ibe superfiadt«r4neoiwof mosques, schools, public cisterns, 
Olemas, village Shikhs, &:c. the Pasha has of late considerably en- 
riched his treasury. Tl^ deiieal mterest is of course now in oppo- 
sition, although the Pasha has become the restorer of the faitli, by 
deltyertb^ the holy cities^ The Mamelouks have no chance of suc- 
Oee^gin any atten^ upon E^pt^ sis long as Mohammed Aly 
kfeps m power ; but if he shepid happen to fall, I conceivo that, al- 
number is npw reduced to three hundred %hting mm 
they would forthwidiyre^in their lost seat in Egypt, where 
j^T friends are still very p^pcially among the most dar- 

mg' adventurers, who greatly and vigorous measures 

the actual government. ’ p. , 

/Wth*the perpiission, and Ehrmauns of this able 

apd active usurper, Mr Burckharol i^ye^d quietly tlirough 
Niabia up to the very confines of 0dn^la, along tthc banks of 
the Nile. It seems to us to be a journey of very little interest, 
to those who are exceedingly curious about the antiquities 
OT Sgypt ; — and even for thcae there is no novelty here of any 
great importance — and no drawings. The country everywhere 
presented the same appcai'ance of misery and tyranny, which is 
' 2 ’ H2 " 


BarekbMdt^s Travels in Nubia. 


so rh^rnrtorstic of the Ea<4t. The same divine and human 
chHiory at w<>f4v, winch Have in 'all ages ^;o lon^g attracted 
tlie notice of Oriental travellers; a burning rendering fcr-* 
tility more fertile, and IvuTenne^is more form iil able, — The 
ignorance; and fororiiy ol’ tlm followers of Mabometj— ‘the Uth 
bounded desnoti?^ni of the mitster,— the deepest mistry of th^ 
slave;*~the earth languishing in its finest regiotis and creatidits, 
—and on every side (where the Garden of Eden might be), the 
silence and solitude of de>potiRm. 

Mr Bnrekhardt’s journey begiTis at Assouan, the southern 
bound irv of' Upper Egypt ; and, keeping on th<^ banks of the 
N !c, he travels oi'c«mrsc in a direction ncm ly south, for miles. 
Niibia, before the reign of Sultan Selim, was divided bcUvt t d dif- 
ferent tribes of Arabs, and- the people of Dongola ; «>r i-tLther was 
a prize lor which these different powers were alwji\s eoiit»-iiiig. 
One of the Arab trrhe«, in a state of temporary inici loriiy to its 
rituals, ap})iied to Sultan Selim for protection, wlio si-nt t-heni 
several hundred Bosnian soldiers, untler a commander nrimocl 
Hassan Coosie. Three brothers, his desctyiidanls, are the pre- 
sent Governors of Nubia:/ They pay an aimuai tribute of 120/. 
to the Pacha of Egypt. Their chief residence is Dm, orr the 
Nile; but almost continually moving about, for the 
purpose of gnihenng the* taxes from their subjects, who, like 
the subjects of onr Government in frelapd, pay only upon the 
approach of a superior force. The whole re^iue of the coun- 
try, divided among the three The 

taxes ai-e .estimated upon tlie tmm|^iran^^wer of tfee water- 

The law of paying money for blood is establisJicd in Nabjia 
^one of the first victories which mankind gain over, their 
vage passions. The inhabitants^ from the fo st Ciya^’act to Uto 
frontiers dF.Dor^ola, do not plough their fielrk after tjae 
dation as they do in Egypt* The waters above 

die Catairt^. hever rise sufficienUy bijga-to ovrer^ shore*^ 
Irrlgatmii is therefore carfied cm by ni^sans of^water-wdjeels, put* 
in actfefi as soon as the riye,^aS#ubsid6d. The first seed soW^ 
is that 'df ft grain called The ground is again 

ed after this crop is ^k|^;;^^d"harley is spwn> and sofoetinie* 
a third crop after tb^* ^ P^pfo wear blue shirts, if diejr 
wear any tnifig; and liv^ mud cottages, covered with th^ . 
etalks of grains, and fiiruiished with a few earthen pots. T)hW 
are generally armed ^ ,feut animunrtion is very scarce. When^^ , 
Ihirckhardt left the camp at Tinaretb, the nephew oftho Olief 
ran after him to obtidn a single cartridge'. The Nu- 
bians make ^^-nd baifoy >Ine or beer. Date spirits 

arc niadej> and pubW^’ sold, froiii"SIart southwuid through the 


Travels in Nulna* 


wfiblc of Upper The climate is intensely liot,- but 

healthy ; in the coiitse of five weeks, not one case of di^ase 
was ol^ervcKl. The smalhpox i» the plague of this country : 
the real plague is hardly known there. Tliey are an handsome 
race; anthtne women are virtuous in spite of their vicinity to 
JLJpper where liccntionsneis knws no bounds. 'Fhe peo- 

ple are kind, civil, curious; in some parts not iniiospitable. 
Pilfering is so uncommon among tlum, that any ]>orson con- 
victed of such a crime would be expellee! from "his viHage by 
the unanimous voice o§its inhabitants. Great numbers oi’thc 

IMubians are employed as porters at Cairo, on accoiuit of their 

I'lic oiljer tour contained in this volume is from D rraou, in 
ITpper Kgypt, through Berber, Shendy, and Taka, to Sourikiin, 
a port on the lied Sea, which he crosses to Jidda. He sets oft* 
in the caravan, without a servant, and upon an ass. Ilje fol- 
lowing the acauint of his appearance and preparations. 

‘ J w as tiressed in a brown loose woollen cloak, such as is worn hy 
the peasants of Upper Lgypt^ called Thaboat, with a coarse white 
linen shirt and trowsers, a Lebdc, or white woollen oip, tied round 
with a common liandkerebief its a turban, and with sandals on my 
feet, i carried in the pocket of my Thabout, a small journal book, 
a pencil, pocket -compass, peu-knife, tobacco purse, and a steel for 
striking a light, ' The provisions 1 took with me were as follows : 
forty pounds of fiour^ twenty of biscuit, fifteen of dates^ ten of lentils, 
six of butter, five of salt, three of rice, tw'o of coffee beans, four of 

tobacco, one of pepper, some onions, and eighty pounds of Dhourra . 
for thy ass. Besides these 1 had a copper boiler, a copper plate, a 
colFee roaster, an earthen mortar to pound the coffee beans^ two 
cdffbe cups, a knife and spoon, a wooden bowl for driokihg and for 
» filUng the w^tcr skins, an axe, ten yards of rope, needles and thread, 
a large packing needle, one spare ^irt, a comb, a coarse carpet, a 
Woollen cloth (Tleram) of Mogrebin manufactory for a night cover- 
ing, a small parcel of medicines^ and three spare water^i^s. 

1 bad also a small pocket Coran, bought at which I 

J[b«t afterwards on the day of the {nlgri^agc, iOtli of November IbU, 

' the crowds of Mougt ArafayM^^^ave journal book -aa 

)^^^!^iu^,-.^toget^ with some lodjpjp^%,^ r, for writiojt 
Negroes. My watch in Upper 

tiad no means of getting , The hours oi 

11 in tlie journal, are by compu^on, aSd 

ng the course of the sun. * ^ 

* The little merchandize I took with me phnsisted of twefity pounds 
"'of sugar, fifteen of soap, twO of nutmegs, twelve razors, ‘tw elve steels, 
two ted caps, and several do 2 <?h of wooden which aie an ex- 

cellent substitute for coin in the southern countries. I had a gun, 
> with three dozen of cartridges and some small shot, a pistol, and a 

118 Burcthardt'^ Trwveh in NMd. Aug. 

larpre stick, called uaLbout, strengthened with iron at either end, and 
serving either as a weapon, or to pound the coffee beans, and. which, 
according to the custom of the country, was my constaiit companion. 
IVJy purse, worn in a girdle under the Thabout, contained fifty Spa- 
nish dollars, including the twenty-five, the price of my qamel, and I 
had besides sewed a couple of sequins in a small leathern amulet, 
tied round my elbow, thinking this to be the safest place for secret^ 
ing them. ’ . pp- 167, 168. 

The meanness of his appearance excited the contempt of the 
whole party, and seems to have sul)jectq|^ the traveller to a great 
deal of unnecessary hardship. He was often driv(;ji from the 
coolest birth into the burniiig.suii ; and, besides the exposure 
to heat, had his dinner to cook. In the evening, after the e- 
normoiis fotigucs of th e day, the same labour occurred again . He 
was obliged to cut and fetcli w^ood ; to light a fire to cook ; and, 
lastly, to make coffee, as a bribe to keep his fViends in good 
humour. After some danger from whirlwinds, and from failure 
of water, Mr Burckhardt ai'rives at Berber, w here he makes 
some stay; and from thence proceeds in the“ route we have al- 
ready pointed out. One of the most entertaining circumstances 
he relates, is the disgust and horror his appearance universally 
excited in all the towns of Africa. 

* llic caravan halted near the village, and 1 walked up to the huts 
to look about me. My appearance on this occasion, as on many o- 
thers, excited an universal shriek of surprise and horror, especially 
among the women, who were not a little terrified at seeing such an 
outcast of nature as they consider a white man to be^ peeing into 
their huts, and asking for a little water or milk. The chief feeling 
which my appearance inspired 1 could easily perceive to be disgust ; 
for the Negroes are all firmly persuaded that the whiteness of the 
skin is . the effect of disease, and a sign of weakness ; and there i%.not 
the least doubt, that a w^te man is looked upon by them as a being 
greatly inferior to themselves. At Shendy the inhabitants were more 
accustomed the sight, if not of white men, at least of ihe light- 
brown natives of Arabiaik; and os my skin was much sun-burnt, I 
there excited little surprise. On the market days, however, I often 
terrified people, by turning short upon fbem, when their exclam^ 
tion generally was— Owez h^hi inin eg-sheyttaa erradjim** — God 
preserve us from the dewil I One day, after bai'gaining for some 
r onions with a country girl in the market at Shendy, she told me, that 
if I would take off my turban and show her my head, she would give 
me five more onions ; 1 insisted upon havipg eight, which she gave 
me ; when I removed my turban, she started back at the sigh^f my 
white closely shaven crow n ; and when I jocularly asked her whether 
she should like to have a husband with such a head, she expressed 
the greatest surprise and disgust, and swore that she would rather- 
live with the ugliest Darfout slave. * pp. S76r-7. 


BuFckhardt’j Ti^aveh in Nubia. 


We caniMA avoid presenting our readers with the followiog 
Eastern character, drawn by Mr Burckhardt. 

^ The principal among them, and who became the head of oar 

* mess, Ha(Qi Aly el Bornaway, had travelled <es a slave-trader in many 
parts of Turkey, had been at Constantinople, had lived a long time at 
Damascus, (where many Tekayrne serve as labourers in the gardens 
the great), and had three times performed tlie Hadj : he was now 
established at Kordofan, and spent his time in trading between that 
place and Djidda. His travels, and the apparent sanctity of his con- 
duct, had procured him areat reputation, and he was well received by 

■ the Meks and other chiefs, to whom he never failed to bring some 
small presents from Djidda. Although almost constantly occupied, 
(whether sitting under a temporary shed of mats, or riding upon his 
camel on the march), in reading the Koran, yet this man was a com- 
plete- bon vivaut, whoso sole object w'as sensual enjoyment. Tlie 
profits on his small capital, which w^ere conliniirilly renewed by his 
travelling, wore spent entirely in the gmtification of his desires. IIo 
carried with him a favourite Borgho slave, as his conenbine ; she had 
lived with him three years, and had her own camel, while his otlier 
slaves performed the whole journey on f ’O*. His leathern sacks w ere 
filled with all the choice provisions w hich the Shrr.dy market could 
afford, particularly wdth sugar and dates ; and his dinners were the 
best in the caravan. To iroar him talk of monils and religion, one 
might have supposed that he knew vice only by name; yet Hadji 
Aly, who had spent half his life in devotion, sold la?5t year, in the 
slave market of Medlnah, his own cousin, whom^ie had recently 
married at Mekka. She had gone thither on a pilgrimage from Bor- 
nou by the way of Cairo, when Aly uii(?xpi ctedl}' meeting with her, 
claimed her as his cousin, and married her: At vVledinab, being in 
want of money, he sold her to some Egyptian merchants ; and as the 
poor woman was unable to prove free origin, she was obliged to 
submit to her fate. The circumstance was well known in the cara- 
van, but tha Hadji nevertheless still continued tp enjoy all his wont- 
ed reputation. ' pp. 864--3Q6. 

There is a striking description of a storm in tbe desert, at p. 
385^ and another very pleasing jncture of the scenairy, in emerg- 
th6 desert into a rich scenj?^ cultivation, p. 367. 

' Tihe principal :^ic!es froo^ Eg^i trough Berber to Shendjv 
so on to Senlaaar, Kmdofaiv^^ Xl^r^ir, are the sembil 
iind ihehleb^ the former a perfume imd l^ficine, Valmarti cel^ 
iiedt the, othet a condiment, die ftnit of a species of tilia. In 
addition to these are imported soap, sugar, beads, coral, paper 
and hardware. The returns from the south and south-eastern 

■ parts' of Soudan to Egj^pt, through Berber and Shciuly are, 
grain, gold^ ^of whicli latter article the princiital maiket is Basel- 
^1, a station m the road from Bennaar to Gondar, four days from 

. toe former), ivory, musk, eboi^’, leather, coffee, fruit, liojiey. 


Burckhdrd^f Trivoels in Nubia. 


an(I, above all, slaves; The account of the intern^ African 
slave trade is full and interesting. Mr Brurckhard^ calculates 
the number of slaves sold annually in the market ot Shendy at 
about five tbom^iid ; of whom 4500 are fof the and 

liOOO Jbr the Arabian market,— the rest for the Bedouins, who 
live near the llefi Sea, and for Dongola. Those brought tOmm 
SltoT'dy l)V Kordofim and Darfnir merchants, arc from idola- 
trous counii us, fro.<i 20 to 4*0 flays south of Darfour. The 
treatment of slaves is acc.anpunied %vith the usual circunislauees 
of luirroi and atrocity. Tlic great infiniifactory which supplies 
all Kuropean, and the greater part of Asiatic Turkey, with the 
n' ’< :o*{! eu:*rdiaiH of leinale virtue, is at a village near Siout, 
ir t'np n' chit'fl\ inhabited l)y Cliristiatis. 'J’he epera- 
I r- "re t‘Ao Coptic Monks. According tp the mo«l mod. rate 
e V'.’ ii i.oi:, tlie number of slaves actually in Egypt is 40d^''K). 
.Em-.. > the pl.H/ue, in the spring of lsl5, h00(; ^ were vr- 

poircd t<' tile G overnment to have died in Cairo alfuje. 'riie 
niMibev of slaves i-.iported from Soudan ia Egypt be;n>, in the 
estiinriion of this traveller, a veiy small proportion to those kept 
by the Mnssulmans of the southern countries, llie Atlantic 
i^lave tran'e he considers as quite trifling to that carried on in 
the inferior ; the only cure of which will be the hnprovenicnt 
ami ci-ilizatiop of the Negro, and the cultivation of those arts 
which will render him the rival, rather than llie prey, ol“ his 
Mussulman neighbour. Superstition commonly debuses and 
ilegradcs mankind ; but, nt first, it in some instances contributes 
to their civilization. In the most despotic countries, the pf>wor 
ol the priest is ofren the only check to tyranny. The Uhlenja 
in Turkey is a power wln< ]i the Grand Signior is forced to re- 
spect. IVo Fukeers, say^ Mr BurclUiardt, conducted the ca- 
ravan in saiety through districts inhabited by ferocious tribes, 
whom it would bave been impossible, without the sanction of 
their sacerdotal preii^uce, to have approached. — The country 
people came;in crowds to kiss iheir hands as the caravan passed, 
alany^ed Irst the Fakeeri^from any absence of customary ire-, 
spect, should withhold tlte supplies of rain, and Curse their 
Jandsd|||kh bavrenijess. ' V ^ 

A limidlnl pucture in these Travels, of the Africans : 

diey are treacherous, vindictive^ intemperate, cruel; mifirk- 
ed v\ith every vice which can degrade the human character. 
Mr Biirckliarclt lived long amqng them; had great means of 
obsci ving ; and appears to be in geiienil i&o modorate, and guard- 
ed hi his a ^mioijs, tbat his statemcrits necessarily obtain credit. 
It h.^wrver, be observed, that h^e alway*^ appeared among 
the Atiicaas as a very poor man. — mendicant who was li# 


Burckliardt’5 Travels in Kuhhu 


travel fi'om Northumberland to Kent, and was to run the ffauut- 
let of jailors^ constables, and justices, wouhl not, perhaps, form 
the most exalted uotions of the English character. Not the 
least interesting account is that of the pilgrims’ route, w^ho,.froni 
cvbry part i^f Africa, hasten to perform their roligioub duties at 
Jklccca. From Darfoiir, Sennaar, Kordofiiii, Bergamce, llor- 
goo, and every part of Soudan, believers hasten to the 
tomb of the Prophet; and to secure (or themselves ilmt disiinc- 
tion which alw.iys cliaracterizcs thrse who have performed tliis 
great duty of the Maliometan faith. 

In the jV[))>cndix is given an Itmerary from the frontiers of 
Ilornou, by liahr el Ghasal and Darfour, to Silently, as collect- 
ed from an int<'HigoiiL Arab at All reports agree that 

there is a fresh-water lake in tlie interior of Bornou ; the 
name 1 1' the lake is Nou, and from it life country derives 
jeuias Land of Nou. la this liiueravy, the river hhary is 
adudeil t*^ as big as the Kile. the Negr(» tribes, the 
greaie^l is the tribe of Feiiata. 'i1ji v have spreail iicross the 
whole cQnl:i:K‘ut; and one of them whom Mr Burckhardt saw 
at Mecca tohl him, that his cncampnieot, when he loll it, was iu 
the neiglibourhood of ’rimburt<K>, 'bhe bVliata have attacked 
and pillaged both Bornou and Kashna, lipoii if»e ccicbratetl 
question respecting the N\ger, this work contains little or no in- 
formalion, except vdgiie nssertions of the natives, that the Nile 
;mc! the Niger ore the same river. On lliis subject it is surely 
better to wait for further information, man to build up dull 
theories of geograpiiy, whicli ctui confrr no fame on the author, 
and convey neither amusement nor instruction to the reader. 

Art, VI. Memoirs of RiciiARD Lqveix EiKu:woRTn, Esq. 
— Begun Mhmelf] and concluded^ bi/ his Uuugh/er Maria 
JSnoEwoETii. 8 VO. 2 vols. L 01 KI 0 U 5 1820, ; , 

nPHouGH w’e have as mneb veneraUip^Jbr the name of Edge- 
" worth, as for any that modern literature, we 

. confess we thought two octavo raijier more than could 

he required to tell all lltat the public T 0 jE<a^|d cr?re to know of the 
individual who is here comine^noratcd ; and took up the book 
with sonic prepossesion against that lavish scheme of biograpny, 
by "which botli great and small names in our history nave been 
lately overlaid. On the whole, howewr, though vve still think 
the book a good dd|l too long, we i»ave been agreeablv disap- 
pointed ; and can safely recommend it as being, on the whole, 
► very entertaining, and containing much mgrp than the usual 

Its Edgeworth*s Memoirs* Aug* 

proportion both of useful and curious information, llle iltst 
Tolumc comprehends Mr Edgeworth’s own account of himself 
—the second its continuation by his justly celebrated daughter ; 
and the most remarkable tiling certainly about tlie work is, t^t ' 
die first is, on the wholcj^^^tter tlian the seconds It is very 
lively^ rapid and variousr^lStvened with a great number ^ 
meraotes and characters, If not indicating any extraordi- 
nary reach of thought, or lomnoss of feelipg, exhibiting, in ra- 
ther a pleasing and candid way, the history of a very active and 
cultivated mind — and scattering about everywhere the indica- 
tions of a gocxl-humoured self-complaeency, and a light-hearted 
and indulgent gayety. The other is too solemn anddidactic — 
and thougn there are many passages full of interest and instruc- 
tion, it overflows so much with praise and gratitude, and duty 
%nd self-denial, as to go near to be dull and tedious. 

We do not think it necessary to lay before our renders any 
account of Mr Edgeworth’s genealogy, or oi'' the lortunes and 
exploits of his paternal and inatemal ancestors; Jior even to }>rc- 
sent them, in detail, with the histoiy'^ and eharacterb of his lour 
wives and their respective progenies. There are some traits of 
indelicacy here, indeed, wdiich we are bound to mai k with our 
reprehension ; and which, in a work intended for publication, w o 
think admit of no apology. What need, for instance, w as there 
to infoim the world that he lived uncomfortably with his first 
wife, repented very soon of his union with her, and gave up hia 
afiectioiis to another long before her death,— at the same time 
that he allows the match to have been entirely of his own seek- 
ing, and that he bad nothing whatever to reproach her with, 
except that she was not altogether so ga^ and intellectual as he 
could have desired? The indecorum of such a statement 
greatly aggravated too, by the consideration that tips uufo^Ur 
pate lady was the mother of tjbat daughter who^ fame niui$t| 
after all, be her father’s best passport to celebrity, and to whom 
one parent h^s thus delegated the task of publishing the 
of Uie other. Mr E.’s sij^^i^siye marriage of two sisters is 
a transaction wdiich well kusve Ueeri aUoweci to repose 

m the obscurity into. it had mtumily instead oi 

being studiously broli^g^^*ward, witli a fond and ambitious re- 
fereme to the various fogotten pubheations in which the lega- 
lity of this very questionable proceediag was discussed at 3ie 

In the same w^ay, we think the public miglit have been spar^ 
cd the account of Mr E/s bad nursing, and Opthe various schodtt 
he attended, and the nicknames ^he received before he was eight 
years old. For las own family and posterity, it is barely pot* 

1820. Edgewortli’s Memoirs, ^ 128 

i^ble that these paiticulars may have some interest ; but for the 
general reader 5 they can have none. It is only ot‘ Great 
mat we are*greedy to preserve such relics ; and it is not inerely 
* mkapplylng, but parodying the spirit of heroic biography, to hw>* 
zard its licenses oTi such an occasion as the present. Some of 
gthe anecdotes, however, are worth culling, both on their own 
account, and as having acouired a hind of classical interest aa 
the gi'oun^work in point ot fact on which several scenes and 
characters in Miss E.’s exemplary Tales appear to have been 
founded. We shall endeavour to give our readers a little sam- 
ple of theJe ; and shall try to connect tliem by as rapid and 
concise an abstract of die narrative as we can easily manage. 

The fiiniijy was originally English, and went to Ireland in 
the time of Elizabeth. Most of them seem to have been gay 
and extravagajit. One of them married so young, that his owft 
age and that of his wife ditl not make up thirty-one years. He 
had estates in England and Ireland, and had got money with 
his wife?. 

^ But they were extravagant, and tjuite ignorant of the manage- 
ment of money. Upon an excursion to England, they mortgaged 
thcMr estate in Lancashire, and carried the money to London, in a 
stocking, which they kept on the top of their bed. To this stock- 
ing, both wife and husband had free access, and of course its con- 
tents soon bc^gan to be very low. The young man was handsome, 
and very fond of dress. At one time, when he had run out all his 
cash, he actually sold the ground plot of a house in Dublin, to pur- 
chase a high crowned hat and feathers, which was then the mode. 
He lived in high company in London, and at court. Upon some oc- 
casion, King Charles the Second insisted upon knighting him. His 
lady was presented at coifirt, where she was so much taken notice of 
by the pliant monarch, that she thought it proper to intimate to her 
husband, that she did not wish to go there a second time ; nor did 
ever after appear at court, bloom of youth and 

beauty. She returned to Ireland. I^ls was an instance of prudence, 
as well as of strength of mind, v^cb could hardly have been ex- 
•peated from the in^rovident teiaper bad slmwn at fu^t setting 
out in life. In this lady*s characters an extraordinary .mix- 

ture of strength and weakness. Sb^lpfeo^rageous boyond the 
iiabits of her sex in real danger, ahd of itnaginary beings. 

According to the superstUkm of the timeVshc believed in fairies. 
Opposite to her husband's Castle of.Lissard, in Ireland, and within 
view of the windows, there is a mount, which was reputed*to be tlie 
resort of fairies ; and when Lady Edgewortli resided alone at. Lis- 
sard, die common people of the neighbourhood, either for *amuseT 
ment, or with the mtentlop of ^ghtening her away, sent cliiidred 
by night to this mount, who h^|^ir strange noises, by singing, and 
^he lights they showed from to tiraCj terrified her exceedingly. 

124 ^ Memoirs. Aug* 

'Pnt she dt«7 not ^it l&e^place. The mount wits called 
*ince abbreviated into Fir mount. ’ — ‘ From whid) the Ahb4 
worth took bis ord^ry name of M. de Firmont.’ I. ll-tS; 

The son oi thits priid(?nt eouple was not much 
^ Coland Francis Edp:ewoTth, besides bdug straitened in Jiia cir- 
cumstanceSt by having for n^jf years a )aij$e jointure to pay to his 
was involved in S^mUtes by his own taste for play; T 
taste which, from indulgence, ^came an irresistible passion. One 
night, after having lost alt the money he d>uid command,' lie stoked 
his Wife’^s diamond ear-nnes, and went into art adjoining robni, where 
she vvii’? sitting in company, to ask her to lend them to him. She 
tbhk ib-irtfroni her ears, and gave them to him, Sayiftg, that Sic 
knew for v*h it purj)ose lie wanted them, and that he was welcome 
to flicm. 'Ihey were played for My grandfather won upon this 
last Slake, and gained back aU he had lost that nigllt. In the warmth 
6f fm gr.intudc to hi-* wife, he, at her desire, took an oatli, that he 
w'oidd never more play at any game witli cards or dice. Some time 
afterwards, he wa^ found in a hay yard with a friend, drawing straws, 
out of the hayrick, and betting upon which sliould be the ^ongestS 
<~As mitcht be expected, he lived in alternate extravagance and dis- 
tress; somctiines with a coach and four, and sometimes in very want 
of half a crown. ' 1. p 16, i7. . ^ 

'i’jie learned reader w ill easily discover tlie originals of some 
of ‘Mas Edgt'woitli s characters in those sketches, of aii’- 
cestry. Tlie Ibikiwiug probably suggested the first idea of 
Cftblle Hackreiit ^ / 

^ About thisttime, one of our rc]atiQns 9 a remarkably hfuidsonie 
youth of eighteen or nineteen, came one day to dine with. ; my 
tather was t'roni home, and 1 hud an opportunity of seeing the mart- 
nexs of this young ihan. He w as quite utonformed ; my mother told 
me, that he had received no education, tlmt he was a hard drinker, 
jiod that notwitlistunding hi^ handsome appearance, he would jt^godd 
for uothieg. Her prediction was soon verified. He married i W- 
man of inferior station, wliep* lie was scarcely twenty. Hi« wife^s 
nuuKTOus grpwn-u?»-faujily, father, brothers^ artd eousiQSr were tokei^ 
into his , They appeared wherever any publie meeting gave 

them an o|iportiinUy, irr o^^bandsome coach witl^four beautiful 
hom^s^ the men laced olothes^'ter the fashion of those 

days, his luxurit^ady at his bouse for two^ 

three jwrs. in that time, 4^ssifutted the of 

twclvirliundrcd pounds k year, which, wy ymrs i^o, .wgs equal at 
iea.^ to tJiree thousand of our (wesent monqy. The quantity .of elainat 
which these parasites swaliowed wa^ so ^extoaordioary, that 
accounts of this foolish youth came the cbanccllar, his 
di>alh]^td a great part the wine-zuereiba|nt's bill ; adding, 
ihe gentlemans coac^b'bpr||t^ dmuk dai^, ,jso mucli as bodr^^ 
charged could have cortsu^^. This 
ey^r, obtained a comtdorable portion m the poor young 

3.820. Edgeworth’^ Mmoire. 125 

in of tSie oo^tanding debt. Jbe bo'^t bad for $amo timi| 

partaken of the good pheer in his own Itoui^ ; but disease, Ios^ 
petite» and wanf^of rdish for jovial comp^ions, soon coufiood 4a 
ills own apartmenlV; yddcli happened to ha over the dieing pat^joinr^ 
where he he^i^fd the. nois 3 ^ merriment below. In this solitary aitna- 
tiiyn, a basin *<rf bread and milk was one day brought to him, in which 
4te observed an unusuaf quantity of black crusts of hr&<\d. 
objected to. them, and upon inquiry was told, that they were thr re« 
fuse crusts that had been cut off a loaf, of which a pudding had been 
made for dinner. This instance of neglect and ingratHude stung him 
quick; he threw the basin .from him, and exclaimed, 

To be denied a crumb of hi cad in his ow n house, where 
liis whVs whole family were at that instant noiing at his expense, 
quite conquered him. ” He never held his head up afterwurdi^ 
but in a few months died, leaving a large family totally unprovided 
with fortune, to the guidance of a mother, who kept them destitute 
of any sort of instruction./ I. 37—39. 

'When only seven years old, Mr JE. received hi.s first bias Co 
meciianicul studies from the kiiidness and patience of an old 
gentleman, who showed him the cou.^irtiction of an orrery and 
other instruments. He was also, he assures us, a prodigious 
dancer and hunter before he wa.s fil'teen ; and at sixteen went 
through the ceremony of marriage v/ith a young lady— he says 
entirely in sjnirt — but unde^such eh cumstances as induced his 
fatlier to iustitute a suit in. the Ecclesiastical i^rc for aiixiull^ 
ing those im^inary nupliala. Soon after he weut to Oxford, 
where be seems to 6ave conducted himself with great propriety. 
The ibllowing anecdote, like most of those he has remembered, 
is very much to Iiis credit; , 

* During the assizes at Oxfijrd, the gownsmen are or Were per^ 
mitted to sfeat tberasehes in l|te courts. In most country courts 
there is a considerable share of noise and confusion ; but at Oxford 
the din and iniien*uption WeriJ tjeyond ^ny thing 1 have ever wiihiesSo 
ed ; the young'Ktien wens hot hi the least solicitous to preserve de- 
corum, and the jttd|^s were un^in|f 4o be severe upon the stiiden t$- 
A man was tried ftr sbtiie feloily, - tfio jt;^e had 'charged the jury, 
aod'^lled on the foreiada. Who seem^ a decern fairmer, for a 
verdict. While the juf^ .tamed sj^ak to some-^ 

body/ the' 'foreman of thb 'the evidence or 

the fudgd^s chaise, a»»kcd i«ife, whom he bad 

observed to be attentive to tip hdal, wliat ifetdict he should give. 
Struck with the injustice hbd illegcdity of tips procedure, 1 stood up 
ahd address^ the judges WUls and SWith. My Lords, said I — 
Sh!; flown, iaftid the jidga.— My Lord, I request tq, be 
liOlM fot orie ifoumeht/'— The angry Sir, yourgowa 

th^ not pmtect^u, f innkt puoislr^you if you' fiemist, ” — By^k 
tpae ihe eyes 6f the w*hote court wef(^ turntni up^ but feeling^ 

136 Memoin. Aug.* 


that I was in the rig^i' i |>efscvered. “ My X^drd, I ihost laV t cir- 
cumstance befoi^ yeftt’Vnicfi lias happened-^' The jud^e stitt 
ima^j^ning that I h||kl some* eomplaint to make rel^tire to*ti3yse!f, 
ordered the sheriff to reme^o me. — “ My Lord, yOu will commit me * 
if you lumper,, but in the mean time 1 must declare, that the 
ff^ethfUi^ ef this jury is Ip .deliver an illegal verdict, for he has 
the evidence, ' has asked tne what verdict he ougldr 

^ The Judge froth the bench made me an i^ology for his hastiness, 
and addh^d a few words of strong approbation* ^ia was of use to 
me, by tending to increase my self-possession in public, and my de- 
sire to take an active part in favour of justice. ’ L 95-97. 

Soon after he entered the University, he was introduced to 
the family of the lady he afterwards married — dhat of a lawyer, 
a contemporary of his father, who had many years before mar- 
ried an beiresp, retired from practice, and sunk gradually into 
the ruin and stupidity that so often await those who seek* hap- 
piness in the country. The following is a picturesque account 
'of his establishment. 

^ (laving no interest in the common routine of a country life, he 
lud little tp do, and that little he neglected. I'he family into which 
he married was proud, and when an heir to the family was born, no 
expense was spared to celebrate the important event ; and as Mrs 
Elers had in perfection one essentiabquality of a wife, before her 
husband could about him, she had celebrated two or three such 
festivals. * A very old steward of the Hungerford family managed 
all the business of the estate ; a great part of which business con- 
sistpd in chobmng, felling, and cutting up wood for faeL This poor 
Httle man, eighty^years of age, used to be seen in the depth of win- 
ter, upon a little grey horse with shaggy hair and a long flaxen. mane 
and tail, riding about the grounds, and seeming to conduct a num- 
ber of labourers, who did precisely what they pleased. The value 
of the timber cut down for firing was mare than equal. the price 
of coals sufficient for the house ; and the expense of ai^ng it up 
for use was still greater. Eve^ part of the domestic expenditure 
ivas carried on in Uij^ nrnpxm ; so that in a few years after the deatli 

found hhb^^ without hav*' 

ing hem of tm^^test extravagi||iice.'--^is family 

increased, the old wOM, Mr Elm left every thing to lus 

wife, and Mrs thing to jber apryan^. Tldng$r/were 

in this situation at placfirltourton^ ^ introduced 
family by my fathi^. ' had personally known Itttie qf Mr 
Elers, since their friendship was fbcnw at the Temple vh^ 
judging from his 1etl£^, my father considered hip as, the . same ^ 
bsim of active misul and taktnts, and w^ the same habits for huei' 
n«a, Ik^hich he had ^n apj^ared to poi^s. U was, thel^te, 
naturally a great ebj^vVrith him, to pffiipe me, ^ my first! 
to Oxford, under the earq of a person whom he "so iiiudi esteem- 



EdgewW A’s ■ Memoirt. 

ed, and of vrlK»se idi^ies he had such a high opinion. The famtljr' 
at Black-Bourtcm at tins time consisted tuf Mrs £ler8» her mother • 
Mrs Hungerford^ and four grown up yoang Jadies, besides several 
phildren. The eldest son, an officer, was absent. The young ladie^ 
though far from being beauties, were handsome ; and though desti* 
tute of accorfifplishmenU, they were notwithstanding agreeable, from 
an air of youth and simplicity, and from tmafiected good nature and 
gaiety. The person who struck me most at my introduction to this 
family group was Mrs Hungerford. . She w^s near eighty, tall, and 
majestic, with eyes that still retained unconmion lustre. She was 
not able to rise from her chair without the assistance of one of her 
grand-daughsers ; but when slie had risen, and stood leaning on her 
tortoise-shell cane, she received my father, as the friend of the fa- 
mily, with so much politeness, and witli so much grace, as to eclipse 
all the young people by whom she was surrounded. Mrs Hunger-v 
ford was a Blake, connected %vith the Norfolk family. Siie had for- 
merly been the wife of Sir Alexander Kennedy, whom Mr Hunger- 
tbrd killed in a ^ucl in Blenheim Park. Why she dropped her title 
in marrying Mr Hungerford I know not, nor can I tell how he per- 
suaded the beautiful widow to marry him after he had killed her hus- 
band.— In the liistory of Mrs Hungerford there was something mys- 
terious, which was not, asT perceived, known to the younger part 
of the family. 1 tnhde no inquiries from ]\Ir Elers ; but 1 observed, 
that she was for a certain time in tlie day invisible. She had an 
apartment to herself above stairs, containing three or four rooms’; 
when she was below stairs, we used to make a short way from one. 
side of tile house to tfie other, through her rooms, •which occupied 
nearly one side of a quadrangle, of w hich the house consisted. One 
day, forgetting that she w^as in her rooitl, and her door by accident 
not having been locked, I suddenly entered : I saw her kneeling be- 
fore a crucifix, wluch was placed upon her toilette ; her beautiful 
eyes stt*eaming with tears, and cast up to Heaven with the most fer- 
vent devotion ; her silver locks flawing down her shoulders ; the re- 
mains of exquisite beauty, grace, and dignity, in ]>er whole figure. 

1 had not, till I saw her at these her private ^votions, known that, 
she was a catholic ; nor had I,' till t saw her tears of contrittioD, any 
reason to suppose that she thought her^i^ a pemtent, l!fie scene 
struck me, young as I was, and more young— her tear# 

seemed to comfort, npt td depre^ since 

my ddldhood I was convinced, that of religion are 

fully its terrors. She w^as much.iiu earnest, that iJhe did 

not peiredive me; and 1 fortunately to withdraw without 

having disturbed her devotions. t. 83-^; 

We ibay add aniithez' ai^cclotq, . connected with the place ro- 
ijier tjian the per^o^ 't ' 

Mr Lenthmjl (descended from the Speaker J^^hall) lived at 
BuVfofd, within a miles of Black^Bourton. This gentleman, who 
was a very good master, had a very good butler. One morning the^ 

'-■-m '.in®' 

^ butler a^jetter in lua • 

. <^aaner^ 

bis tnatt^, ^ h»iV|^y , 

^ ^ mi^< could/. 

jtor sil^Uop ? ” — your hoi%o^. ihat’s not the thii^ 
1 ^ 1 got a pritiom $Kc lottery o£ ;^jE)^«, and I have/iul 

Jiuyltife had a-wish to Jitve ^i; 09^ twelycwoath' jifcc a nian of twh/^ 
a year ; aid all, I ask of your honour is, diat^ a%0» 
,1 hs^ spent the money, you will t;ike me,bac(t agiUn ,ipto jour ser- 
. i^ce, “ That is a pronn'se, ” said MrvLe^hall, “ .which (.hplieve 
I may sa^ly make,^ere is yery littte,pr^abi|ity of jtqhr irhbiog 
to return to be a butlerK after having lived as a gentlem.^ul• .t^^ 

* M r Le^thal I was however mistaken^ J alm4ei|)e0trnf^1y the»ainount 
of his ticket in Jess titan a year* . .He had previously ho i^ht himself 
a small annuity to provide for his old age ; wli^ .1^ had spent nllthe 
rest of Ida «w>ney^^ he acmaJly rOtiirned to of Mr Lent- 

Hall; him standing #t die sideboard Ut tae;;tinie when I 

.W9|i§,'in^that country/’; 1. '>* - 

^ > Mr E. fell in love with one of th©^ ,Mi«s ^d}lf!K^ 

'her at Gretna Green before ho was. 

^,^lthor*s-rfeu■g^vencss--^kept terms -!at the ' Teni|>hew^d^ 

/bimsjrff with mechanics and reading at « smaf^li^ush' laf Bet*k-* 
$lkre* Here and in Londoirhc Uiifjiihintfed with 
Sir’ Francis Blake JSelaval, the nio^' ^ of 'wit, 

fashion, and'^llaiitij about lowft ^^^%/^6ession of \die;^^£atc 
Kihg ; and Wb are accor^ii^ly pfei^iaitfed Wl3i about 
Of Anecdotes about !iis elcctioiiecrtrig44is' thea^^^ 
juripg’ aiid liis gamblingr-the greatest p^t of which 
^ lis/tb^ave very little interest. 

‘ ^ it was this person who, in crHijudctip]i.wltli ]^|b^^;.c^]dcd 
' ' ^^ip^disguisq the mystery of a fbltd*ier^]ttcr>,iip^ 
iepatation and suci:^:&; and is.yupp,i^d, tP 


of uuid^^^^ddefiriy l^itosist 

this -of hk^^te^at 

-l^wnlaAet, ■ ;SdgewSi^/?irst ' 

, W notion" of 

CIS®' rather edife^,;:- and 
wbi^s-^thou^Jfo^ying $p^K'fea 
, we think, tobc pertly a pro}e% itii|^ 

of aggrandizing hU tody by a‘ m ifotwecn iiis stor- and* 

Edg^wdrth's MeTnoirs. 129 

' the then -Duke of York ; nml when this was fnist rated by the 
&udden death of the Duke, he fell into low ^})ints. 

Though a man of groat strength of minil, undo!' vivacity that 
» seeiued to be untameable, liis health sunk under this disappoint- 
His friends and ph^^sician laughed at his complaints. Of 
/herculean* strength, and, till this period, of uninterrnptod health, 
'• they could not bring themselves to believe, that a pain in liis breast, 
of which he complained, was of any serious consequence ; on the 
contrary, they treated him as an hypochondriac, whom a geneious 
diet, amusement, and country air, would soon restore. He was or- 
dered, however, to use a steam-bath, which was then in vogue, at 
KnightsbrWge. I went W'ith him rhero one day, the last I ever saw 
him ! He expressed for me a great deal of kindness and esteem ; 
and then seriously told me he felt, that, notwithstanding Jiis natural 
strength botli of body and mind, and in contradiction of the opinion 
of all the physicians, ho had not long to live. He acknowledged 
that liis mind was affected as well tis his body. 

“ Lot iny example, said he, warn you of a fatal error into 
“ which I have fallen, and into which you might probably fall, if 
you did not counteract the propensities which might lead you Into 
‘‘it. I have pursued amusement, or rather frolic, instead of inrning 
“ my ingenuity and talents to useful purposes. I am sensible, con- 
tinued ho, “ that my mind was fit for greater things, than any of 
“ which I am now, or of which I was ever supposed to be capable. 
“ 1 am able to speak fluently in public ; and I have perceived that 
“ my manner of speaking has always increased tlic force of what I 
“ have said. , Upon various useful subjects I am not deficient in in- 
“ formation ; and if I had employed half the time and half the pains 
“ in cultivating serious knowledge which I have wasted in exerting 
“ my powers upon trifles, — ^instead of making myself merely a c’onspi- 
“ cuous figure at public places of amusement, — in'^toail of giving niy- 
“ self up to gallantry which disgusted and disiqjpointcd me, — instead 
“ of d^sipating my frrtune and tarnishing rny character, I should 
“ have distinguished myself in the senate cr the army, f should iiave 
“ become a U'jEFUL member of society, and an lionour to rny family. 
“ Uemeraber my advice, young man 1 i^ursuc what is uskfui- to 
“ mankind ; you will satisfy them, and, what is better, you will sa- 
tisfy yourself. ” 'I’wo mornings afterwards, he was found dead ia 
his bed. ' L 151-156. 

After the loss iff’ tins dangerous patron, Mr E. amused him- 
self with contriving sailing chariots — time-keepers — w^ooden hor- 
ses and carriages of various descriptions — as well as in educat- 
ing his eldest son upon the system of Rousseau. His coach- 
niardng brought him into correspondence with Dr Darwin, 
^ \yho w^as also an inventor in that department ; and he went 
at last on a visit to Tdclifield, to consult him upon the plan of 
a new phaeton. The Doctor who, from his r^rrebi>ondence, 
VOL. XXXIV. KO. 67. I 


Edgeworth’s Mevioirs. Aug* 

had taken liim for a profesbional conchnvakcr, was from lioinc 
when Iu‘ arrived ; but he presented hiinst li* to Ivirs Darwin, who, 
though at first under the same inipressioii, with th(? quick tact 
of her sex, almost instantly discovered the mistake — which Imr . 
learned husband did not suspect till several hours afq'r his re- 
turn. This visit brought Mr E., for the first lime, into that 
society by which he w^as for the rest of his life most attracted, 
instructed, and improved — the society of the Dc/kons, tl:e 
Walts, the Keirs, the 8mall>, the Days, Sewards, and Sneyds. 
Tlirough tlu’m he also got ii»to a learned society in Loiuicm, 
composetl of Sir Joseph Hanks, John Hunter, Mii-kelyt.e, 
Sineaton, Hainsden, ar.d several others. Of Raii'sdea Vie aro 
tempted to lr;mscribe tiie following short anecdote. 

* Besides his great mechanical getiius, he had a species of invi n- 
tion not quite so creditable, tlie invention of excuses. He never kept 
an engagement of any sort, nevt r finished any work punctual Iv, or 
eur failed to promise what lie abvays failed to perform. — "flic king 
(George III.^ had bespokcMUi ins’nuvicnt, which he was jieciilIiiTiv 
dosfrous to obtain; lie had alloweil llamsden to name his owui time, 
but, as usual, the work w-^s scarcely begun at th(‘ period appointed 
for delivorv. However, when at last it was finished, he took it down 
to Ktw in a post-cliaise, in a prodigious hurry ; and, driving np to 
tin palpce gate, he asked il' fits ivns at home. The [lages 

and attendants in waiting exjiressed their surprise at such a visit : ho 
howe\er pertinaciously insisted upon being admitted, assuring the 
page, that, if he told tlio King that R.ansden w^as at tlie gate, His 
Majesty would wm show that he would he glad to see him. He 
was rit'ht ; he was let in, mid wa^ graciously received. His IMnjes- 
ty. after examining the instrument carefully, of w'liicli he was really 
a judge, expressed his satisfaction, and, turning gravely to Rams- 
den, paid him thi^ c<unpliment upon his piu^ctuality. — ‘*1 have been 
told, Mr Rmn^den,” said the Kmtr, “ that you are considered to be 
the least pimctnal of any man in England ; you have brougllt home 
this instiumenr on the very (wif diat was appointed. You have only 
mistaken the yfr/r / ’ 1. if}] -2. 

JiiCMiiost iiguriiig peixni, however, in Mr E,’s n amative, is 
Mr Day — of W'hom \vc find, first and I ‘sJ, a very intere-^ling 
aiul aimisii'g accouiil. He was luiquestlrambly a man of extra- 
ordinary t dents, and of a high and amiable ch’iractor— but was 
as in tpu : thujably a liltie nmd. When he and Mr K. first in.el, 
in 17GS, he was uiuler twenty years of age, but irrevocably 
■wetldtd to all lire impractrcahle notions and sysleumtic absurdi- 
ties winch chijni-cferizcd his after lile. Tiiougli liKtsler of a itfrge 
forlune, and unusually well read and iiigoiiious, he iiad not^ 
merely a .scorn, but an abhonence for th.e reliiu meiUs of po- 
lished life, and an antipathy to everything that lioie die name of 
fashicii, as a mere mask for prdligacy, hcartlcssnosb, and inbin- • 

1820 s 

Ed 1 3 i 

eerily; and accordingly would noiilicr dresi^, talk, nor behave, 
like other persons of his condition. In politics, he was an ar- 
dent, but visionary and hnprr.cticablo lover of liberty — ii zealous 
‘and undaunted philanthropist, in theory and practice— an olo- 
qiicnt dcclaimer, and a most expert and indefatigable dispulunt 
ill private conversation. Uefore be was of age, he resolved to 
educate a wife for himself; and, with this view', selected two nice 
girls from the Foundling H<^‘'pital, with whom, to be more out. 
of the w’ay of impertinent obseivation, be eslablislied liiiii.self 
for a or two at Avignon. 

‘ Siinpl’city, perfect innocence, and attachment, to himself, wr^re 
at that rime the only qualitications which Jit' desired in a w ife : and for 
reason lie was not anxious to culiu^ate the undcrstaralings of his 
pupils. I fe raiiglit tlicni by slow degrees to read mid w’rite. Dy con- 
tiruuilly talking to them, by reasoning whicli appeared to me above 
t»hcir coinprt hciiMon, and by ridicule, the taste for w hich afler- 

wiird • iic luiiicd ay.ainst himself, he endeavouri d to imbue tlicm with 
a deep liatied for dress, and luxury, and tine pcujfic, and fashion, 
and lillc-i. At his return to Fngland, which haipciied. I hclitve, 
when 1 was out of that country, lie parted with one of h=s ])uy)ils, 
findnrr Ikt invim^iliiy stupid, or, at the best, not disposed to tbilow 
Ills n ;'uien. He ga\c her three or four hundred jxiunds, whicli 
toon ’ locuied her u husband, wh.o was a small shopkeeper. Li this 
siuiul on die went on contentedly, w'as liapp}', and made Iier Jiusband 
bupp;, . end is, ];crIiop«, at this moment, condbrlably seated w ith 
fs(»:i*e of her gnmdciiiidrcn on her knees. His other pupil, Sabrina 
Sidney, wa*, i t Mr Day’s return from France, a very pleasing girl 
(>!* thir teen. Her countenance was engaging. She had fine auburn 
liair, that hung in natural ringlets on her neck ; a beaut}', which was 
then more striking, because oibcr people wore enormous quantities 
of powder and pomatum. Her long eyeladics, and expressive 
of sweetness, interested all who saw her; and llio uricoinmon melody 
of her voice made a favourable impression upon every person to 
whom she spoke. I was curious to see how my friend’s pliiiosophic 
romance would cud. ’ I. SlT-^lS. 

It elided as might have been expected. After confounding the 
poor child’s understanding by Jong rhetorical disputations, and 
frightening her to death (if we may believe Miss Seward) by fir- 
ing pistols at her petticoats, and dropping burning sealiiig- w ax 
on her arms, to make her familiar with pain and danger, ho at 
last caught her wdlh a Jiandkorcliicf or sleeve, at wdiich he 
had expressed a lofty disdain and antipathy, and iinmediat(‘ly 
gave'uj) the idea of their union. He provided, however, for 
ker comfort with his usual generosity ; and, after his death, she 
married one of his early fiicnds, and conducted herself with 
uniform judgment and propriety. He himselfi soon alter their 
reparation, marrietl a lady of great beauty and accoiuplishmcnts, 

I 2 


and with a taste. ib']|4lbquejnc6 and discussion petfectTy 

to his own. By the account that is here given of them, Siey. 

must have been a most loqu^ious mid argumentative pair. 

* iShortly after their mandage, he brought Mrs Day to Nortb-A 
church to see us. person and conversation were pleasing, and ^ 
the noble and generous sentiments which she expressed, and the con-» ['* 
fonnity of all her conduct to these slmtimcnts, entitled her to more 
than common admiration and r^pect. Mrs Edgeworth had been 
well accustomed to Mr Day's habits of discussion and' declamation : 
she observed that Mrs Day's replies, replete with sense and spirit, 
were always delivered in chosen language, and wdtli ^pjopriatc em- 
phasis. My friend proceeded towards his conclusions with unerring 
logic, and indexible perseverance ; but Mrs Day's eloquence won the 
hearers, at least for a time, to her opinions. — Notwithstanding the 
dryness of political and metaphysical subjects, which were usually 

. those upon wluch we descanted, 1 was amused and instructed, and 
I wished most heartily to prevail upon Mr Day to settle in my 
neighbourhood in Hertfordshire ; but he Iiad an insurmountable ob- 
jection to any situation near his former friends, lest, as I supposed, 
any opinions contrary to his system of connubial Iwppiness might be 
supported before his wife. He remained some time at Hampstead', 
being in no great haste to purchase a house ; as he thought, that, by 
living in inconvenient lodgings, where he was not known, and conse- 
quently not visited by any body except his ^chosen few, he should ac- 
custom bis bride to those modes of life which he conceived to be es- 
sential to his happiness. — I never saW any w’^oman so entirely intent 
upon accommodating herself to the sentiments, and wishes,, and will 
of a husband. Notwitlistanding this disposition, there still was a 
never-failing dow of discussion between them. From the deepest po- 
litical investigation, to the most frlvo|pus circumstance of daily life, 
Mr Day found something to descant upon ; and Mrs Day was ho • 
tiling loath to support upon every subject an opinion of her own : thua^ 
combining in an unusual manner, independence of sentiment, and the 
most complete matrimonial obedience. ' 1. 

These. philosophers^ then boughtan estate, and wasted an enor- 
mous sum of money in great experiments, in agriculture; and 
at last he got about building a house. He set the builders to 
work before he had fixed upon the plan^^ so tliat there was no- 
thing but stoppages and alterations. 

* One day he was deep in a treatise, written by some French agri- 
culturist, to prove that any soil may be rendered fertile by sujfieient 
jploughing, when the masons desired to kpow where he would have 
the window of the nCw room on the first floor. 1 was present, at the 
question, and offered to assist my friend^No— he sat immovable in 
hfii chair, and gravely demanded of the mason, whether the wifil 
might not be built first, and a place for. the window cut out after- 
wards ! The mason stared at Mr Day with an expression of the most 
unfeigned surprise. ** Why, Sir, to be sure it is very possible ; but;! 





1 believe, fitr, it h more common to put in tlie wlndovr^ottfes while 
the house is building, and not afterwards. Mr Day, however, wiA 
great coolness, ordered the wall to be built without any opening for 
windows, which ww done accordingly • and the addition, which waa 
made to the bouse, was actually Siished, leaving the room, which 
was intendfed for a dressing-room for Mrs Day, without any window 
whatsoever. ’ I. 348. 

He lived Happily, hov;cver, with his discursive partner, and 
was killed at last, in his forty-third year, by a fall from a horse 
which he w'as attempting to break for himself, without any of 
the liarsb and cruel practices usually employed for that purpose. 
His Sandford and Merton is a work of great merit and genius. 
His poetry is vei'bose and heavy; his political ciliisions arc of 
the same character ; and his familuir letters, of which we are 
prescMtcd with several in these volumes, appear to us to be sin- 
kgularly diftiiseand elaborate. 

In the mean time Mr E. falls in love with Miss Honora Sneyd; 
and is sent off to Lyons by the virtue of his friend Mr Day; 
where he stays for two years, and makes himself very busy by a 
licheme -for turning the course of the Rhine by embankments, 
and by various mechanical inventions. He has also recorded a 
gooil number of anecdotes of the Lyonese society — ^good, bad, 
at)d indifferent. The following appears to us among the most 

* About this time a fatal catastrophe, that befel two lovers, made 
a great noise at Lyons. A yOung painter, of considerable eminence, 
came there, in company with a woman of unconomon beauty, who 
was his mistress. There was something remarkably attractive in both 
the man and the woman, and their company was sought for with the 
utmost enthusiasm by all the young men of that city. The urbanity, 
liveliness, and good nature of the young painter, were extolled in 
every company. Both he and tlie lady sang and played well on se- 
vd^al instruments ; and, by a variety of other talents, which they ex» 
ercised without ostentation, they made what is called in France a 
great sensation. Their mutual fondness kept all pretenders to the 
lady’s favour quite at a distance, while it excited a lively interest 
AthOng tlicir acquaintance. There wm still, however, some&ing mys- 
tefiohs in their conduct towards eadi other, that induced an indefinite 
kind, of suspicion. In themidst of gaiety or mir&i a look, or a sigh, 
het#yed a secret anxiety.^ Tins anxiety gradually increased, not- 
MdSstanding the pains which were taken to conceal it. After some 
months, the stranger and his mistress invited ell their acquaintance 
to *a handsome supper, which th^ gave at taking leave of their 
/friends, before their intended departure from Ljjpns. When they 
bade farewell, they showed great emotion, and hastily withdrew be- 
fore their friends departed. 

* Tliere iii(i near a convent at Lyons, a place which was called the 

’V , . . ' ^ 'y-: / ’.'‘Y'w , 

ISi Edgi^orth^i Mm6ii:Si 

tomb of the two Iover^.----On this spot the bodies of the sfrarigers 
were found the next, inorning.*— They had shot each other with pis- 
tols, the triggers of which were so connected by a red riband, as to 
go off at the sanie moment. .At, first no trace of their* history, or mo- * 
live, for their conduct, could be discovered : biit at length it was as- 
certained, that the man laboured under some incurable disease, to 
which the physicians had convinced him he niuji^t fall a sacrifice within 
a given period. HfS' mistress had determined to live no longer than 
her lover : they had, therefore, converted whatever they possessed 
into ready money, which tliey agreed to spend in the manner most 
congenial to their tastes ; and as soon as tlieir funds should be ex- 
hausted, which they had calculated would last to the predicted pe- 
riod when his disease must end his life, they had resolved to destroy 
themselves. ’ I. 300-302. 

Mrs E. then dies ; and the widower returns to England, and 
marries Miss Sneyd. He then takes up his abode for some time > 
on his estate in Ireland; but afterwards settles in the neigh- 
bourhood of London. The two following detached anecdotes 
show human nature in its extreme stages of simplicity and cor- 
ruption ; and, we think, are both very striking. 

^ One day, in one of the crowded streets, I met a poor young 
girl, who deemed utterly bewildered; she stopped me, to ask if I 
would tell her the name of the street she was in. Her aepent was 
broad Scotch, and her look and air of perfect simplicity was, I per- 
ceived, not assumed, but genuine. 1 gave her the information she 
wanted, and asked her where she lived, and if she was in search of 
any friend’s house. She said she did not live any where in London ; 
she was but just arrived from Scotland, and knew nobody wiio had 
any house or lodging of their own in town, but she was looking for 
a friend of the namn of Peggy ; and Peggy was a Scotch girl, who 
was burn within a mile of the place where fhe lived in Scotland. 
Peggy was in service in London, and had written her direction to 
some in this street; but the number of the house, and the names 
of tlje master or mistress, had been forgotten. The poor girl was 
determined, she said, to try every house, lor she had come all the 
w ay from Scotland to see Peggy^ and she liad no other dependence ! 

* It seemed a hopeless case. I was so much struck with her rfm* 
plicity and forlorn condition, tb^t I could not leave her in this per-* 
picxity, an utter stranger as she evidentlfyV^ to the dangers of Ilon- 
don. I went with her, diougk I own without the slightest h<^e of 
htr succeeding in the object'of her seardi; knocked at every ^ifagor, 
and made inquiries evCry house. When we came i»ear the eii4 of 
the street, she was m despair, and cried Utterly but as one of. the 
last doors opened, and a.s a fbotman was surlily beginning, to ^wer 
my questions', kh& darted past him, exj0lidinfog» There’s Peggy ’ 
She flew along the passage toa servant girl, whose head liad just ap- 
peared as she was coming o|r stairs. 1 never heard or .finger 
expressions of joy and affiK^on than at this meeting : ai^ I sW'cely « 



£ijgowoil3i’$ Memoirs* 

ever, for any service I have been able in the course of my life to do 
for niy follovr-creaturcs, received such grateful th.inks, as I did from 
this poor Scotch las^y and her Peggy for the little assistance I afFord- 
. ed her. 

< Another time, about this period^ one evening in summer I hap* 
pened to Hb in one of tho^e streets tliat lead from the Strand toward 
the river. It wu%iA street to which there was no outlet, and conse- 
quently free from pas'^engers. A Savoyard 'was grinding his^disre- 
garded organ ; a dcu*]. sh ide fell obliquely across the street, and there 
cis a melancholy produced by the sun oundiug circuiiistances that 
c\cited my attention. A female beggar suddenly rose from the steps 
of one of»the doois, and began to dance ludicrously to the tunc 
which the Savoyard was playing. I gave the man some money; and 
1 observed, that, for such an old woman, the mendicant danced w ith 
p eat sprightllne^s^ She looked at me stedfdstly, and, sighing, add- 
ed, that she could once dance well. She desned the Savoyard to 
play a minuet, the steps of which she began to dance with uncom- 
mon grace and dignity. I spoke to her in French, in w Inch language 
she replied fluently, and in a good accent ; her language, and a know- 
ledge of persons in high life, and of books, winch she sliowi d in the 
course of a few minutes* conversation, convinced me that she must 
liavc had a liberal education, and that she had been amongst the 
higher c)<issco of society. Upon inquiry, she told me that she was 
of a noble family, whose name she would not injure by telling her 
own ; that she had early disgraced herself; and that, falling from bad 
to worse, she had sunk to her present miserable condition. 1 asked 
her why she did not endeavour to get into some of those asylums 
which the humanity of the English nation has provided for want and 
wretchedness; slie replied, with a countenance of resohitc despair. — 
You can do nothing more for me than to give me half a crown : — 
it will nuke me drunk, and pay for my bed ! *’ I. 354-i)58. 

At the end of' a few ye.irs llonora dies, and Mi 1C. marries 
lic'r sifter Klizabotli, and makes globes and chronometers with 
great diligence in a house in Cheshire; — and here his own part 
of the liistory is suddenly broken off^ after bringing it down to 
the year 1781. 

Miss K.'s part of the story begins with the return of her family 
to their Irish liome in ] 782 — from whip!) period, to the end of 
his duys, Mr E. was, with few and trai^sent exceptions, a con- 
stant mid exemplary residjiit. Miss E. fiwt gives us a short ac- 
count of the way in which he lot and managed his estates, and 
then a brief summary of the politics of the famous year 1782; 
dpring which her father took part with the volunteers and re- 
formers — though with a due regard to the constitutional snpre- 
^ -macy of tiie existing ParliamenU We have next a miscellany 
of letters, of no very great interest, about his scheme for re- 
claiming bogs by the use of movei^le niilways and friction* 

136 ^l|garorth’< Memoirs f Aug* > 

rollers ; and about planting — education — medicine and meeW 
nics. Uj^on Mr death, he bad a project of writing his life— 
but afterwards resided that task into the hands of Mr jCein He 
continued, however, throng all changes of public and private 
fortune, to amuse himself wtth mechanical contrivances, and to 
set an example of prudence, temperance and fairness, in hia im- 
mediate neighbourhood. The following shorts passage contains 
a picture of one, wo trust, of the lost genera of the native Irish. 
Mr Er had, as executor, to settle the affairs of a deceased re- 

* In endeavouring to arrange with the creditors, he bad of course 
some difficulties, and was ultimately at considerable loss ; but when 
be attempted to collect what was due of arrears of rent on his rela- 
tion’s estate, the matter became not only difficult, but perilous ; for 
it was Ills fate to have to deal with persons calling themselves penile- 
man tenants — the worst tenants in die world — middle-men^ who relct 
llip lands, and live upon the produce, not only in idleness, but in in- 
solent idleness. 

* This kind of half gentry, or mock gentry, seemed to consider it 
as the most indisputable privilege of a gentleman, not to pay his 
debts. They were ever ready to meet civil law with military brag of 
war. Whenever a swaggering debtor of this species was pressed for 
payment, ho began by protesting, or cwjessing^ that “ he considered 
himself used in an ungentltmanlike manner ; ” and ended by offering 
to give, instead of the value of his bond or promise, ** the safi^acUon 
of a gentleman, at any hour or place. ” Thus they put their promp- 
titude to hazard their worthless lives, in place of merit, especially 
of that virtue, by them most despised, perhaps because by them least 
Lnown^ — erroneously called common honesty. It certajnly was not 
easy to do business with those, whose best resource was to settle ac- 
counts by wager of battle with the representative of their deceased 
creditor ; nor was it easy, while inferior persons felt it their interest 
and ambition to provoke their antagonist, to keep out of discreditable 
quarrels, by which nothing could be gained, and every thing might 

lost. It required not only prudence and temper, but established 
^aracter, with some weight of family connexions, and the united 
voice of good friends, to bear him out, at this time, in the cause of 
justice, when it was on the ofeditor side of the question. 

* My father has often since rejoiced in the recollection of hisi 
steadiness at this period of his life. As far as the example of-an in* 
dividual could go, it was of service in his neighbourhood. It show- 
ed, that such lawless proceedings as he had opposed, could be ^ 
fectually resisted ; and it discountenanced that biwggadooio style of 
doing business, which was once in Ireland too much in fashion, 
Such would no longer be tolerated in this part of the country ; but- 
i^uch has been: and persons of the sort I have described Nourished 
some thirty years ago, and were among a certain set popular as mrq 
c/' undeniable sprit, 14^0, 141. 

18 SI#iv ' ' ;; -• ■ ' ’ 137 * 

In 1795 he resumed end made publk his speculations on the 
Telegraph, which had originated near thirty years befdVe ; and 
corresponded largely with Dr Darwin md Dr Beddoes on 
•poetry, medicine, and philanthropy* Miss E. then gives a veiy 
interesting account of the methods adopted by her father in the 
education of his children* The substance of th^ is to be found 
in her valuable works on this subject; but the following have 
more of an individual character. . " 

‘ When he was building, or carrying on experiments, or work of 
any sort, he constantly explained to his children whatever was doing 
or to be doi^ ; and by questions adapted to their several ages and ca- 
pacities, 'exercised their powers of observation, reasoning, and inven- 
tion. — It often happened that trivial circumstances, by which the 
curiosity of the children had been excited, or experiments obvious 
to the senses, by which they had been ^interested, led afterwards to 
■peeper roHection or to philosophical inquiries, suited to others in the 
family, of more advancetl age and knowledge* • The animation spread 
through the house by connecting children with all that is going on, 
and allowing them to join in thought or conversation with the grown- 
up people of the family, was highly useful ; and thus both sympathy 
and emulation excited mental exertion in the most agreeable manner. 
— In trying experiments, he always showed that he was intent upon 
learning the truth, not upon supporting his opinion. % the exam- 
ples he thus set us of fairness, candour, and patience, he trained the 
understanding to follow the best rules of philosophizing ; and, what 
Is of more consequence for the happiness of the individual, he taught 
his pupils to apply philosophy to the government of the temper. — . 
He knew so exactly the habits, powers, and knowledge of his pupils, 
that he seldom failed in estimating wliAt each could comprehend or 
accomplish. He saw at once where their difficult}" lay, and knew 
how far to assist, how far to urge the mind, and where to leave it 
entirely to its own exertions* His patience in teaching was peculiar- 
ly meritorious, I may say surprising, in a man of his vivacity. He 
would sit quietly while a child was thinking of the answer 10 a ques- 
tion, without interrupting, or suffering it to be interrupted, and 
would let the pupil touch and quit the point repeatedly ; and, with- 
out a leading observation or exemmation, he would wait till the steps 
of reasoni»ig and invention were gone through^ te^d were converted 
into certainties. This was sometimes trying (o the patience of the 
byvstandtf s, who often decided that the question wos too difficult ; 
wheUt jusTttt the moment that the silence sind suspense could be no 
longer endured, his. judgment has been justified, and his forbearance 
rewarded* by the child’s giving a perfectly satisfactory answer. — 
The' tranquillizing effect of this patience was of great advantage, 
STbe pupil's mind became secure, not only of the point in question, 
but steady in the confidence of its future powers. It was his princi- 
ple to excite, tlie attention fully and ^rongly for a short time, and 
• nfoer to go to the point of fatigue. •— It often happens that a precep- 


tor app^rs to havi^ is^uence for a time, and that tlds |iower 
suddenly This id, and must be tlie case, wheremr any 

sort of dece|ittjS''^s been used. My father never usod any artifice 
of any kind ; consequeiully, he always possessed that confidence 
which ia the r^lvard of pia|n*deaiing ; a confidence which increases 
in the pupifs mind with ago, knowledge, and experience. 1 dwell , 
on ibis refiection, certainly, with pride and pleasure, as far as it con- 
oerns my fathei* find ray beloved preceptor ; bfij independently of 
private feelings, T trust that my strong assertion bf this fact may be the public* It may tend to convbice parents that perma- 
nent infliience over their children, tjiat that infiucnce which arises 
iVom grateful esteem, that which alone can endure from Jpouth to age, 
may with certainty be obtained by plain truth. ’ IL 180-184'. 

When considerably turned of fifty, Mr \L niavrietl for the 
fourth time, — and with ^ual success in all the lalor expe- 
dients. At the same mature period he obtained his first 
in Parliament ; and.tbe fi^lowitig discourse is said to have been 
actually held on the subject. On his way to Duldiji, ‘ he met 
jail intimate friend of his; one st^e they travelled together, and 
a singular conversation passed. This fnend, who as yet knew no- 
diing of my fatlier s intentions, began to speak of tlie marriage of 
some other person, and to exclaim agaii^st the iblly and imprudence 
of any man's marrying in such disturbed times — no man of ho- 
nour, sense, or feeling, would encumber himself with a wife at such 
a time!”— My father urged that this was just the time, when a 
man of honour, sense, and feeling would wish, if be loved woman, 
to unite his fate with hers, and to acquire the right of being her pro- 
tector. — The conversation dropped there. But presently they talk- 
ed of public affairs — of the important measure expected to be pro- 
posed of a union between England and Ireland — of what would pro- 
bably be said and done in the next session of Parliament. My father, 
ibreseeing that this important national question would probably coine 
on, had just obtained a seat in Parlinineut. His friend,' not knowing 
or recollecting this, began to speak of tlic imprudence of commencing 
a political career late ip life. No man* you know, ” said he, but 
a fool, would venture to make a first speedi in Parliament, or to mar- 
l-y, after he was fifty. ” — My father iaugheJ, and, surrendering all 
title to wisdom, declared, that, though he was past fifty, he was ac- 
tually going in a few days, as he hoped, to be married, and in a few 
mouihs would probably make his first speech in Parliment. 

His friend made as. good a retreat as the case would aMit, by re- 
niarking, that his maxim could not apply to one, who wus not going 
either to be married or to speak in public the first tkue. * II, 
i99'-20l. / . \ 

There is then ia little account rising in 1798, in tjwf * 

pouTsc of which Mr E/a mmisbn some days in posses- 

sion^ or at least at flm mercy, of lh^ Msurgents. tlis iaige Ihr 


JBilge#9rth’5 ^ 

mily was with difficulty conveyed to Longford— except the 
housekeeper, a staid and resolute person, who consented to 
till the carriage sliould return, and who did rejoin them the 
• day after. The following traits will not appear in any general 
history, — apd are far more interesting than most of those that 
. will. 

‘ She told us, that, after we had left her, she waited hour after 
hour for the carriage : she could hear nothing of it, as it had gone 
to Longford with the wounded officer. Towards evening, a large 
body of rebels entered the village. — She heard them at the gate, and 
expected thpt they would have broken in the next instant. But one, 
who seemed to be a leader, with a pike in his hand, set his back 
against the gate, and swore, that, ** if he was to die for it the next 
minute, he would have the life of the first man who should open 
that gate, or set enemy’s foot within side of that place. ” He 
mfsid the housekeeper, who was left; in it, was a good gcntlewoiiian, 
and had done him a service, though ehe did not knozv hiniy nor he her^ 
He had never seen her face ; but she had, the year before, lent his 
wife, when in distress, sixteen shillings, the rent of fiax-ground, and 
he would stand her friend now. 

^ He kept back the mob ; they agreed to send him to the house 
with a deputation of six, to knoxv the truthy and to ask for arms. The 
six men went to the back-door, and summoned the housekeeper : one 
of them pointed his blunderbuss at her, and told her, that she must 
fetch all the arms in the house ; she said slie had none. Her cham* 
pion asked her to say if she remembered him-— No ; to her know- 
ledge she had never seen his lace. ” He asked if she remembered 
having lent a woman money to pay her rent of fiax-ground the year 
before ? Yes, ” she remembered that, and named the woman', the 
time, and the sum. His companions were thus satisfied of the truth 
of wliat he had asserted. lie bid her not to be ^frightedy for that 
no harm should happen to her, nor any belonging to her ; not a 
soul should get leave to go into her master’s house ; not a twig 
. should be touched, nor a leaf harmed. ” His companions huzzaed 
and went off. Afterwards, as she was told, he mounted guard at the 
gate during the whole time the rebels were in the town ; and thus 
was our house saved by the gratitude of a single individual." II. 

^ When, on our return after several days, we came near Edge- 
5Vorth-'J|jpwn, we saw many well known facas at the cabin doors, look- 
ing otit nywelcome us. One man, who was digging in his field by 
the rood ilde, wlien he looked up as our horses passed, and saw my 
father^^t fall bis spade atid placed his hands ; bis face, as the 
memng sun shone upon it, was the krpngest picture of joy I ever 
The village was a pielaacholy spectacle ; windows shattered, 
and doors broken* But though the inischief done was great, there 
had. been little pillage* Witiun tm gates .we found all property safe j 


^literally not touched, nor a leaf harmed." Within the 

house every as we had left it ; — a map that we had been 

consulting was on the library table, with pencils, and slips 

/>f paper eontimlhg the first l^sons in arithmetic, in which some of. 
the young people had been engaged the morning we had been driven 
from borne ; a pansy, |n,a gti^s of water, whicli one of ihe children 
had hoen copying, was 6till on the chimney-piece. These trivial cir- 
^mmstances, marlcing repose and tranquillity, struck us at this mo- 
Koent with an unreasonable sort of surprise, and all that had passed 
aeemed.likc an incoherent dream. The joy of having my father in 
" eafety remained, and gratitude to Heaven for his preservation. These 
feelings spread inexpressible pleasure over what seemed to be a new 
aense of existence. Even the most common things appeared delight- 
ful ; the green lawn, the still groves, the birds singing, the fr^h air, 
nil external nature, and all the goods and conveniences of life, seem-* 
edio have wonderfully increased in value, from the fear into which 
' weliad been put* of losing theip iitecoverably. ’ II. 231, 232. ^ 

We have then a spirited sketch of the distraction produced 
by the first discussionsi on the Union, on which occasion Mr E. 
niade his debut in Parliathent, by speaking in favour of the 
measure, and voting against it— -oh the ground that, though ex- 
|)ecUent in itself, it ought not to be passed against the decided 
will of the country chiefly concerned. In a note found among 
his papers, we have the following brief, but striking memorial, 
of the means by which tliis great measure was ultiinately brought 

‘ Tlie influence of the Crown was never so strongly exerted as up- 
on this occasion. It is but justice, however, to Lord Cornwallis and 
Lord Castlereagh to give it as my opinion,, that they be^an this mea- 
sure with sanguine hopes that they could convince the reasonable 
part of the community, tliat a cordial union between tlie two coun- , 
tries would essentially advance the interests of both. When, how- 
ever, the ministry found themselves in a minority, and that a spirit 
'of general opposition was rising ip the country, a member of the 
; Houses who bad been long practii^ in parliamentary intrigues, bad 
the audacity to tell Lord Castlereagh from his place, that, if. he 

did not employ the mual meam ^ permasion on the members of 
*Vtbe Housdf be would tail in his attempts and that the sooner he 

set about it the better." — Ihis advice was followed; and it is 
welk known what benches were filled with the proselytes that had 
been made by the cmvincing argimenU which obtained a<wajority. ’ 

Daring tlje peace of Amiens, Mr E. went with his ftuiiily to 
Paris, where he renewisd* several of the friendships he had flfirm- 
cd thirty years before ; and, by the kindness of the' Abbd Mo-*' 
rellet, passed at once into all that rethaioed of ilic polite and en- 
iightened society of France. The result of his comparisoii of 
its old and new state is given in these few words. 

tt)il6s^4 Edgewor\h*$ Memoirs. 141 

‘ He observed, that, among the families of the old nobility, do¥ 
Inestic happiness and virtue had much increased since the Revolu- 
tion, in consequence of the marriages which, after they lost their 
wealth and rank, had been formed, not according to tlie usual fasliion 
of old French alliances, but from disinterested motives, from the 
perception of the real suitability of tempers and characters. The 
women of this class in general, withdrawn from politics and political 
intrigue, were more domestic and amiable; many wives, who had 
not formerly been considered as pattbrns of conjugal alljction, hav- 
ing made great sacrifices and exertions for their husbands and fanii- 
hes during the trials of adversity, bf»came attached to them to a de- 
gree of wnich thiy had not peihaps known themselves to be t ipablo* 
during their youthful. days of folly and dissipaiion. — With ng'iril to 
literature, ho observed, that it had considerably dcgei it latt d. J'cu- 
thc good taste, wit, and polished stjlewhich had cliarattcii/cd iVcnclt 
literature before the Rc\ohuion, there was no longer any dtmnnd, 
and but few competent judges remained. The talents of the nation 
had been forced, by circumstances, into different diicctions. At one 
time, the hurry and necessity of the passing moment had produced 
political pamphlets, and slight works of amusement, foimed to catch 
the public revolutionary Liste. At another period, the ciossing par- 
ties, and the real want of iicedora in tlie country, had lejirts^ed li- 
terary efforts. Science, which flourished independent]} of politics, 
and which was often useful and essential to tlie tulus, had mean- 
while been encouiaged, and had prospered. The discovx^iics and 
inventions of men ol science showed, that the same positne quantity 
ot talent existed in France as in former times, though appealing in 
a new form. ' II. 283-4. 

I le very narrowly escaped being detained on the breaking out 
of the war ; and came afterwards to Scotland, where he left one 
of his sons, and where the literary society of this city had a tran- 
sient oppoitunity of admiring .the talents of his affectionate bio- 
grapher. Mr E. soon after lost two children of tlie gi catest pro- 
mise and interest ; and was activeW employed in the establish- 
ment of telegraphic stations from Dublin to Galway. In 18()G* 
he engaged in the greatest, and by far the most useful of all Ins 
public undertakings, the introduction of a better system of Edu- 
cation for the poor of his native country. He was one of the 
Commissioners appointed for that ^eat national object, under 
the eifl^htencd government of the Duke of Bedfeud, and cor- 
tribute^thc most \aluablc of those Reports by wliicli then- 
labouj^havc since been so wisely directed, and copied in other 
In 1809 he also took a most active and realous 
part in the labours of anotlier Parliamentary Commission for 
surveying and reclaiming the bogs of Ireland, and made up a 
most minute and elaborate Report upon the condition of tliat 


/district which had b^n aliott^ for his immediate syp^nttetid*^ 
ence. The restdt of the whole inquiry was, that dicre were 
near three rrMlims of acres of peat or bog soil in ^Irelatid, of 
which more than one half n^ht be profitably converted to 
purposes of agriculture., Mr EL, in particular, was ap perfectly 
convinced of the. practicability of this operation, that he offered 
to ta£e a very large tract into his- own management, and at his 
own risk; but there were sotne difficulties in giving a title that 
should fix the boundaries beyond the chance of future disputes ; 
and the experiment w'us never tried. 

There is next a pretty minute account of tlie diffeN5nt publi- 
cations in which Miss JE. was conioined or assisted by her fa- 
ther, of all which she very dutifully ascribes the chief' merit to 
him, and takes the blame of all the faults on herself. The ac-^ 
count, however, which she gives of their joint labours, and of ^ 
the w;ay in which their parts were cast, is very interesting— * 
though we can no longer afford room for an extract. 8!ie bears 
an honourable testimony to the liberality with which they were 
dealt with by their respectable bookseller tlie late Mr Johnson — 

‘ ever w rote, o 

* his nephew’s hand, and communicated to us the follo-oing ac» 

* count of his death I ’ ' 

The following remarks arc consolatory, and lead to most se- 
riou'i practical conclusions. 

^ The middle classes of gentry in this part of Ireland have, with- 
in these last thirty or forty years, improved much in their gene- 
ral mode of living, in manners, and in information. The whole 
style and tone of society are altered.— The fashion has passed away 
ot those desperately tiresome, long, formal dinners, which were 
given two or three times a year by each family in the country to 
their neighbours, where the company had more than they could cat, 
and twenty times more than they should -drink ; where the gentlemen 
could talk only of claret, horses, or dogs ; and the ladies, only of 
dress or scandal : so that in the long hours, v/lien they were left to 
their own discretion, after having examined and appraised each' 
other’s finery, many an absent neighbour’s character was tom to 
piegi^ merely for want of- something to say or to do in stupid 
cin|H But now, the dreadful circle is no more ; the chalS, which 
forinirly could only take that form at which' the firmest nei'^s must 
ever tremble, are allowed to stand, or turn in any way which^Wv 
suit the convenience and pleasure of conversation. The gentle^n 
and ladies are not separated from tlie time dinner ends, till the ' 
night hour, when (he carriages came t6 the door to carry off the bo- 
dies of the dead ; or, till just sense enough being left, to find their^ 

though she 
notice of b 

fallen into something like a Bull in her farewel 
* The last letter,’ she says^ * poor Johnson 
r rather dictated, was to my father. It was in 

, Edgcwotth^s Memoir^. 145 

way straight to the tea table, the gentlemen could only swallow a 
hasty cup of cold coffee or slewed tea, and be carried off by tlieir 
sleepy wives, happy if the power of reproach were lost in fatigue. 

. ‘ A taste for reading and literary conversation has been universally 
acquired and diffused. Literature has become, as my father long 
^ago prophesldQ that it would become, fashionable ; so that it is really 
’necessary to all who would appear to advantage, even in the society 
of their country neighbours. A new generation of well-informed 
young people has grown up, some educated in England, some in 
Ireland ; while those of former days have been obliged to change their 
tone of real or affected contempt for reading people. They have been 
compelled, ^ther to cultivate themselves in haste, to keep pace with 
their neighbours, or to assume at least the appearance pf under- 
standing, and of liking that which has become the mode. 

* * About the j^car 17^3 or 1781*. my father happened to be pre- 
sent in the only great bookseller s shop then in Dublin, when n cargo 
m new books from London arrived,' and among them, the Reviews, 
or ilic Review, for the Monthly Review was the only one then suffi- 
ciently in circulation to make its way to Ireland. Of these, my fa- 
ther found, on inquiry, that not above a dozen, or twenty at the ut- 
most, were ordered in this island. 1 am informed that more than 
two thousand Reviews are now taken in regularly. Tins may give 
some measure of the general increase of our taste for literature. The 
Edinburgh and Quarterly Rt views are now to be found in the houses 
of most of our principal farmers ; and all therein contained, and the 
positive, com|Mirative, and superlative merits and demerits of Scott, 
Campbell, and Lord Byron, are now as cortimon table and tea-table 
talk here, as in any part of the United Empire, 

‘ Tlie distinction, which about half a century ago W'as very strong- 
ly marked between the manners and mental cultivation of a few fami- 
lies of the highest class of«tlie aristocracy in Ireland, and all of the 
secondary class of gentry, has now, by the diffusion of literature, 
and the general improvement in education, been softened so much, 
as to be effaced in its most striking points of contrast. What might 
be termed tlic monopoly of elegance and information, it is no longer 
possible to maintain. This may be mortifying in some few instances 
to pride ; but good sense, to spy nothing of benevolence or patriot- 
ism, will see ample compensation. ' 11. 375-378. 

There is scarcely any thing more of narrative or anecdote to 
be added, Mr continued usefully active, and uniformly 
cheerfiilllnd social in his family and neiglibourhood, till he died, 
placidly Jwd happily, in 1817, in Ute 73d year of his age. 

The n^t important part of Mr E.’s studies, w ere those which 
Education ; and no inconsiderable part of his daugh- 
ter’s invaluable publications havjp been upon the same subject. 
The great merit of these works^ has always appeared to us to 
consist in their embodying, for ilie use of ordinary and inexpe- 
• 3 

rlenced persons, rates and examples, those obsd-trations 

as to the most methods of instruction, which ex|>erience 
and reflection' mnst have su^ested to all minds of*a higher or- 
der. it has'becn supposed, TSbwevcr, that they contained a new 
System or principle of education ; and some peculiarities which 
they certainly did recommend, have been appealed to as proofs . 

' of this suspicibus originality. To us, these peculiarities have 
ever presented themselves as blemishes; and it was therefore 
with great satisfaction that we found the greater part of tliem 
renounced and abjured in the work now before us. 

Rousseau’s plan, of postponing all sorts of tcacyng till the 
faculties ^were pretty well matured, was tried by Mr E. on his 
eldest son, and confessedly failed in a signal manner — the youth 
becoming irreclaimabiy headstrong, self-willed, and intractable, 
when the period for instruction arrived — and absolutely refusing 
to submit himself to any kind of discipline, or course of 
plication. * . 

The other peculiarities in the Edgeworth scheme of educa- 
tion, so far as we can recollect, are the jealous seclusion of 
the children from the society imd conversation of servants 
— a nervous abstinence from ^ compulsion, fatigue, and con- 
straint, — arid the excessive use of the stimulants of praise, sur- 
pi:ise, and curiosity, in order to excite both to application and 
invention. Now, all these peculiarities, which ^we confess al- 
ways appeared to us fiintastical and absurd, we are told in the 
work before us were ultimately abandoned by Mr E., and, with 
them, all pretensions to ^stem, or originality in his scheme of 
education, renounced. Thus, with regard to servants, we find 
it here* acknowledged, that ‘ further cjjjpperience convinced him 
‘ that it is impossible, in the world in which we live, to exclude , 

• from the sight, hearing, and imagination of children, every 
‘ thing that is wrong; that the seclusion necessary for the at- 

tempt would be not only difficult, but dangerous, bbciuise> it 
i would leave the judgment and resolution uninformed and «n^- 
‘ erdsed on many points of conduct and mariners; ’ and tliat 
his early impressions upon this subject had been formed frorir the 
peculiarly bad race of servants that were to be foririd in ligand 
in the time of his youth. As to the other points again, it is also 
observed, that Mr E., * with his last pupils, found advan- 

* tage of having the common elementary knowledge taught ear- 
« ly and securely. He became sensible, that more ofh^t^may 
‘ be called dt'udgef^ of mindy than he had formerly ol^rght 

^ advantageous, is not only useful bittr necessary for ch9drei»» ^ 
^ to train them to that degree of application, to which the^quidc- 

< est talents must submit, before they can succeed in any pro- 

< fession, or before they can advance in any path of business * 

or literature ; Crowded ee every path now is witli 
^l«mpetitQr «9 eveu ^uioa is doomed to labour before it cell 
*^cceed, \ And it « odded, tbat^ for boys, he conceived o 

* Sjlblic education to be^ on the wholes the most advisable ; and 
that it would require a very uncommon COnOiirrencc oi' circum-- 
sUmceft to make any other be thought of« It is also stated, that* 
in his later practice, * less praise and lesss^hafSb^ of all kinds 

< wore useo, than with his earlier pupils; upon llic maxim, 

< applies as well to the mind as to the hody, that the least 
« quantity of stimulus that will preserve it in healthy action, is 
« the best^' 

Now in all this we most cordially concur ; — and we think 
the Edgcw*orth scheme of education very signally improved by 
the corrections which its authors are here said to have made 

on it. But when these are once made to their full extent, in 
iwhaS can this scheme be said to 4iif^ from any other rational 
one that has been amiouuccd to the world, from the days of Xe- 
nophon and Quinctiliian down to those of Milton and Locke ? 
\Vc have no great ihith, in short, in any prelcndeJ discoveries in 
this, more than in aU^oUier depaitment of mental philosopliy, — 
and are noway curlo^or sanguine as to any new or patent method 
of making men wjise> virtuous, or free. The substance of what 
is taught at aqyTP®*'i^^ society, is generally prescribed by the 
usages of that society; and mav be mirlv considered as beyond 
the control of any private individual. Whatever opinion we may 
entertain as to the importance of the learned languages, for in« 
stanoe, every gentleman must now learn them — as every lady must 
learn dancing and music ; and any alteration in these respects is 
^not so properly to be C 9 nsidered as an improvement in the me- 
thodsoi instruction, as a change in the liabits of the nation. When 
we speak of improvements in education, therefore, wc mean either 
contrivoncesfor teaching what is commonly taught with more ease 
Und security than is common^— such observances as promise 
more effectually to excite and stren^hen the intellect and judg- 
ment, or to form the charactmr cultivation of morm ha- 

Iffts ftid sensibilities. The last is, 'beyond all doubt, the most 
ioiflf^Dt ; but it is in die finst ouljr, we think, that any real 
improvement has ever been mode by the ^cnulty of inoividu- 
als* Ihisre have been infinite and undeniable improvements in 
the motifs of teaching all the diligent brandies of knowledge ; 
and, J^ong as society contouies to be progressive, such im- 
psw^ents will necessarily multiply and accumulate. Almost 
»«uveigr invention in the arts and sciences tliemselves, may indeed 
* be c^n&idm'odasameansofiociliutingtheirAcquisidon; — as the 
notadon of music — the introduction of lqj|urithm8 and algo- 
VOL, XXXIV. NO. 67* K 


bra — ^the h hajlilll^ ^ fatoiniiaents and prsut^ML pro- 
cesses — the wl 0iSk(^ systcnis consisting of oisttple 

and judicl0Hpi^^^ In oiJhOr leases, the inH>iH)oement 
iH directly teaching in the LancWlMiMii 

system of process by whiej^ dmf teW 

dumb perse^ HiUn e!dp!Oated---ai!d the more questionidde in* 
ventiom of am Foinagle. As to atl suck improvements 
in education, and es{>ecmlly when confined to esepe- 

diting the acquisition of a single branch of knowledge^ ^ are 
so far from entertaining any general scepticism^ that we consi- 
der their frequent occurrence as amon^ the inevkat>le conse- 
quences of a progressive advancement lu the other arts of oivi- 
liration ; and have no doubt at all, that, as every succeeding 
generation ^ill have more to learn than that which preceded it, 
it will also be enabled to acquire that learning with greater fa^ 
cility and despatch, *• ^ 

'f'he case liov. ever, we cannot help thinking, is widely dif- 
ferent with regard to those methods and practices by which it is 
sometimes pretended, not merdy that some branch of know- 
ledge nmy be better or sooner learned, but that the intellect 
may be improved, and the character exalted to a degree unat- 
tainable under any ether systeitii Of all such pretensions, we 
confess we are in the highest degree distrustful ; and are inclin- 
ed indeed to think, that all persoas of ordinary sense have al- 
ways known and practised all timt can be certainly known, or 
safely practised on die subject; and thathlmost eveiytbing that 
has been attempted beyond this, by the refinements of ingeni- 
ous speculators, haS been very fantastical and insignificant, and 
not onlyJuu$ardous in practice, but exceedingly questionable 
in principle. Fortunately, indeed, for mankind, the develi^ 
ment of our intellectual and moral capacities has not been len, 
in any groat degree, to the contrivances of human genius w 
ihe efforts of human skill and industry^ Like our braily pow- 
ers, they for the most part develop themselves by an inwaid 
impulsu itnd energ>^ ; and by far tiie most imporlaut guidmce 
and direction they evel^ ttetive, is diet which is derived from 
the general habits of the society into which we are thrown, 

« ther than from tiie anxious enorti of individual and dabo- 
te instruction. Unless in somo very extraordmaxy^ases, the 
common educatioslof the times will do all fora man ttettthe 
spixi|kof the times will allow any education to do him ^^o ss 
blumleis may indeed be occasionally oojmmitttd, and soxnS^'jfbed 
may bo done by jodsinting these out, ^d warning the igUoiuat^ 
of &eir hazard ^utismml ones seem to do no gieat mischief*^- 
less, probably, than the superfine methods and nice observ 


«d|»Po»^ tp^ <3o^ for regmmg m 


mio0k0maibi^ its eondtcion ; imd fet H be Absurd to 

the avetAgo degree df jmji vigour from 

SKieh aa anadotis training. It is the same^ ate pcisuaded^ 
tritfi the food of the mind. There is a vis iet'i{{te/ri> noturm m 
both parts of the $) stem^ which enables us tO^'Seslst and thiow 
off the effect of little irregularities and disturbaikces^ — and per- 
haps makes us stronger by the effort; so that we thrive just as 
well under an ordinary treatment 4 s under an exquisite one, — 
and may* safely leave to Proviflenee all that we ci^not regolate 
without a ^eat deal of trouble and contrivance. 

Hie clear and well-digested statements and striking examplas 
of sug3i boc^ as Miss E/s, are of use,. partly to caution Ihe ve- 

S rasti and ignorant against gro^s and palpAble blunders, but 
iefly to give courage and assurance to anxious and inexpe- 
rienced parents in the discharge of a task which they would^ 
after alh have got well enough through without them. There 
js no parent in the decent ranks of Hfe~none who could think of 
reading books for his improvement-*-*who docs not know that hU 
child should be taught habits of application and self-command^ 
— speak truth — to avoid sensuality^— to be obliging, consider- 
ate and firm ; and, though they may not know very well how to 
explain the methods they pursue to obtain these ends/ and may 
consequently be ^metimos in doutyt whefoer they ate ihe best or 
fittest ihethras, it will ^erally be found tiiat no great piractical 
error is ever*commitCea by persons of ordinary judgment, and 
that natural affection and common itonse do all that it is material 
or safe to do for their attainment. For the truth is, not only that 
there is an instinctive wisdom that guides them aiiglitmthe 
task which Nature has imposed on them, but that the wolld, and 
the course of living, woiks alptrg with them in those laudable 
endeavours — and not only helps them forward, day by day, and 
bopr by hour, when they are iti tbo right, but counteraiorks 
tbtilf errors When they are wtwaig, am bears tliem back into die 
rl^t tmtst as often as they attempt to leave it. The bad conse- 
quences of any absurd or Viciow proceeding me top spon felt 
and ffosc'^ved to be long toletOted) and, etcii where the child 
has beeyi‘ spoiled by the folly xSf neglect of it«i natural guardians, 
itisjfAnerally pretty effectually wnapoiled again by its first cql- 
Itsion with general society— eitcept in the case of princes of the 
Alood^ provincial grandees, fomaie beauties, and other unfortu- 
^nate {Arsons who are cxen^tod from this wholesome discipline, 
and oeatined to live on, the victims of fiatSenr and self-illusion^ 


ITje pain 
very fortni""' 
plied/ is SI 
of ill exai 
Fot <h 

^Noibeiss is not^ for tin» 
its temecially whe#, earfy 

laave ua frfixicjty ^ 

sit in laiiorlbltowcd np by a condutit^ 

_ _ . ipasOftSf^We ttre inclined to think but Ugtti^ iff 
most elab^*^ driginal plans of education — and tP Sold, 
that^ even it urere tp accomplish all they profess, the benefit 

nrould be tPp trifling to repay the trouble and anxksy of tl)o 
execution* v But, in reality, so far a«* we have ever seen, these ex- 
clusive and refined s 3 rstcnis do not only fail of their> (itomised 
end, but ^ey are almost always attended with pogitj|fe evils, of 
a nature at least as formidable as those they pretena to eXdude. 
It is Impossible to make young persons the object of any such 
peculiar and pretending methra of instruction, withot^ ihetr 
being aware of it; and tlie Consequence is, that, even where it 
succeeds the best, they are apt to look upon its peculiarities as 
so many titles to distinction, and to grow up with a preposter- 
ous conceit of their own superiority, and ofiensively to overrate 
the importance of any advantages it may have conferred on 
tliem — a habit of thinking fat more incurable and unfavour- 
able to real improvement man any that is usually generated by 
mere neglect or want of judgment in the conduct of education. 
Something of this tendency we should be disposed to ascribe 
even to the corrected system of the Ekigewortbs ; and if it have 
not rendered its pupils somewhat presumptuous, s6lf>aufficiont, 
and ps^agmatical, we think they must have been more indebted 
to the 'good dispositions they have inherited from thdr mothers, 
than to the training they have received from the other membem 
of the family. 

Aar. VII. Tie Jacobite Jtelics of Scotland^ being the 
Aif$% and Legends^ of the AdhefmU to the Houie qf Stuart. 
Oollected andf illustra;ted by Jattne Ho<vo, Author of the 
Queen’s Wake^ &c. &c* Svo. pp. 4if4!. Ediuburglii^illlO* 

''l^E gather, some remarks in the Introduction to this 
volume, that the updsatakhig was suggested ^at a meet- 
ing of the Highland $ociety of j^£>n, to which it % dedicat- 
ecT Nothing can be more prmseworthy than the putplM of 
rescuing from the oblivion to which they were hurryind^ifr^^V 
the monuments raised by the poe^iai genius of out 
men who had devoted themselves to the exiled family; and he 
must either be a squeamish politician, or a cold admirer song. 


I c»ni$ecrated 
tbe wiiih 
leritsof hi* 
I of praise^ 

fiuflfer tho P^n^Jcioasi ao4 aljsuid pr 


0119 ^ Scotcbm#!©* lb*t the Ijtara 

in fiii ahould meet wWb fiWr full i ^ 

same times it cannot be denied^ t|iat''tb^ lapmage hdl4 
upon this* subject by many persons among Uid in Uie preeent '» 
times, is peculiarly reprehensible. The conji^ersy between 
the two families and their partisans is wholly laid rest, by the 
course of nature, indeed, as well as of political events; and long 
ago it ceased to be at all a practical question. Yet do wc find a 
strange sort of spirit lately sprung up — a sort of speculative 
JacobitisEi, not wholly romantic, neither, we are afraid, but 
connected with the events of the times, and a sort of twin bro- 

ther to the newfangled doctrine of legitimacy. The praises of 
the Cavaliers are lavishly chanted ; the devotion of me Stuart 
partisans is consecrated as something more than human ; the 
exiled house is represented in the most false and fiivoiirable 
lights ; and the Whigs are vilified in an equal proportion, and 
with no kind of discrimination. Kow the men who show their 
zeal in this truly preposterous manner, run no risk, much less do 
they make the smallest sacrifice ; yet they seem to exult in the 
disinterested gaHantry and constancy of the old and real Jaco- 
bites, as if tne^ belonged themselves to the caste. In a sound 
skin, they publish what, even half a century ago, would have 
cost them either ear; and they would fain persuade themselves 
that they have a right to g^pry in the romantic purity of tl^lr 
honest zeal £or a beaten cause. Now all this is not mere fully 
an<l ajfTcctation; nor is It all enthusiasm. The persons vdio 
indulge lu this lofty strain ha/of &<me filings in common with 
that party whose personal attndbnusnt,. gallantry, and contempt 
of danger, they have Up prete*isiou to share. Like them, 
they hate the cause of popular principles ; they dislike a &ee 
aiid rational government ; they nad rather see a king unfet- 
tered by a parliament; a judge unchecked by a jury; and a 
press free to^ praise only the stronger side, and restrained from 
palliating all abuses save those of power. To promulgate such 
doctrines openly, even at this tin;ie of d^, and large as the 
strides are which liave been madeVhjiln a ^ years, might pot 
be al|^€thcr safe ; and accoi^dingty mir advocates are eager in 
sehuM ^ery opportunity of crying up those who were Uie vic- 
tims St such principles in a ftuisaitsr a^ and of stamping with 
mark or opprobrium and ridieme the^great men to whom 
wc owe the whole blessings erf* tho English constitution. 

^ Idf Scott's avowed writings are not 'entirely free from this 
impuiation ; and those still more popular works which are so 
generally ascribed to him, abound with instaaces of the spirit of 




which we uro But not oitily are such thlng$ &r less 

reprehensible in worito Ckf pure fiction ; Mr Scott is an artist of 
far greater than his imitators ; and a sly Jbint, or a 

joke, or an im^neyital reinark» may be allowed to pass unnoiicedf 
while we turn with disgust from tlie clumsy matter-of-fact state* 
ments of Jacobite doctrine which others* have not scrupled to 
put forth. Of these we know none more deserving of censure 
than the compiler of the volume before us, and, before touch- 
^pop its literary mcrils, we mui>t be sufiered to prefix a 
word or two upon its politich. 

If Mr Hogg had confined himself to the praises w;^Ich the 
poetical merit of the Jacobite poetry so often calls forth with jus- 
tice ; if he had only extolled that side of the (pic^tion as beyond 
comparison the most * smit with the love of sacred song;’ or 
if he had contented himself with giving the misguided adherents 
of the cause their due applause for disinterested valour, no one 
could have blamed him, even if, like a tiuly able and successful 
defender of those bad principles, David Hume, he had contrived 
to make the worse appear the better reason by dexterity of state- 
menu and skilful narrative. But his is not that judicious ab- 
stinence, which gains what greediness never can reach, that de- 
licate hand which feels its way, and gains admittance where 
brute force knocks in vain. See the plain uiidisguiscd man- 
ner in which he lays down the most oflensive propositions, un- 
til he scares those who, by more lenient methods, might have 
been favourably disposed to him. ‘ They (the songs) are the uU- 
< masked effusions of a bold and primitive race, Who hated and 

* despised the (sveriunii /g innavahotis that prevailed in Churcli 
^ and State, and held the abettors of these as dogs, or somc- 

* thing worse — drudges in the lowest and foulest paths of per- 

* dition — beings too base to be spoken of with any degree of 
‘ patience and forbearance. ’ (p. viii.) Nor can this writer shel- 
ter himself under tlie pretext that he meant here only to de- 
scribe the light in which the illustrious founders of English li- 
berty were viewed by Uumt ..dveisarics* Throughout tbte whole 
book he idenlifiea, himself ’wlib them; and, in the Introduction^ 
he oven brings for^\ aid his piinciples under a sanction which 
would excite no little surprise^ Here there the smallest reason to 
doubt that he has himself been most grossly deceived. * Hed it 

* not, ’ he says, ‘ been rendered necessarj/(or our kings of the House 

* of Brunswick to maintain the sovereignty to which they Were 
^ called by the prevailing voice of the nation, they seem rtevfei ’ 

‘ to have regarded lliofic tlio law dcnqmiiiated rebels otherwW^^* 
^ llian with tespeci. ’ The ab^irdity of this passage is sufficient-" 
ly glftiing. George I. and Gooigc IL, it seems, would have 
^pspectccT the Balmciinos and the Lovats, had dicy not becu 

JaaM^ MeUcsu 


th^ very porspt^ ivhom tJiose worthies ;-r-but as 

it was, tb^ tissiiiSw tb|^l* respect by the hands of tl^ liaiigm^ ! 

* But he proceeds to give what, he culls proofs of ihe position^ 

. that die princes of the House of Bru^wick are at heart Jaco^, 
bites. . 

Thefir^is, that Frederick, IMnce of Walcf*, rebuked bis, 
wife throwing some blsinie upon the lady who luirboured 
the Pretender when he flung hiirisc4f ^ upon her ^protcctiou in 
‘ the extremity of peril.* ^ I hope in God,’ said his Royal 
Highness, ‘ you w^ould have done so in the same circumstances. * 
Now,, to what does this amount, but that even Ifrcderick, per-» 
haps thc*least magnanimous of all tlie Brunswick princes, yet 
felt what every human being must feel on such an occasion, 
without entering in the least into the merits of the question 
out of which it arose ? Wc know that the law calls it treason 
to shelter a traitor ; but the man who . most abhors dio crime, 
would feel himself almost as unable to resist the sympathy which 
overwhelmed him, when he suddenly Ibund u fellow-croatiire’s 
life in his hands, as to perfoi'm the last office of the law upon 
him. This is all that Frederick meiinl; and wc rather marvel 
that the partialities of his august spouse for a nobleman of known 
j^tcobile tendencies, were not rather cited as evidence that the 
late king took his jacobitism by descent. However, the autlior 
goes on to prove his late Majesty also an adherent of the Stuart 
family, in preference to the Hanoverian. Not only did he re- 
store the forfeited estates, and afford relief in money to the dis- 
tresses of the exiled bouse, (why was the restoration of the na- 
tional dress also omitted ?) but Mr Hogg adds^ that since his 
Majesty is ‘now secluded from his government and people, 
‘ and we may consider him as a deceased monarch, ’ he will 
relate ‘ a trait which marked bis. sentiments of those' w}i%atQod 
‘ for tlie cause of his unfortunate relative.* Wo proceed, to 
give this notable trait in. the author's own words — premising* 
that we verily believe neither he nor any man living would have 
ventured to pubUsdi such a thing, had not the late king been, 
as he says, in the state of ^ a deceased monaK:h. ’ ‘ His Ma- 

* WyiPg been told of a. geiitteman of family and fortune 

‘ ni who bad not only’ x^Aised to take the oatit of 

‘ to him, but had He%}er permitted him (the king) to 

* as kiiiii in his presence^ Carry my complmients to 

‘ hini* said tht? king, ‘ bttt-T-rWhat~8to}> — no ; — ^Ijc may per- 

jL hap^ not receive my c:ompnments as King of England — give 
h\m the Elector Ha inrver^S ci^npliments^ ami tell him that 
he respects the steadiness of his principles.' Now, we witt 
at once take upon us toaflbni, from ifatcrnal evidence, that 


jUMife 'Belies. 

every one wortt of this is ii pure fabrication, probably of gcmie 
one who wishi^^'tottnposc on Mr Hogg's ctfiriuKtyt The late 
King wi^s no Wiete the man to utter such affected Stufl^ than 
Mr Pill man to die with ‘ O// vnj country in his 

mouth, evet< If be had been at the moment in a state of mind 
to speak (iobercntly. His Majesty was a plain, rational per- 
son, utterly incapable of such nonsense. U'he folly of git was 
ns much beneath his good sense, as its conceit was beyond his 
Ingenuity. If any person could have ventured to tell him the 
niierdotc on which the talc is founded, it inu'^t have been in or- 
der to laugh In broad grins at the Higlilandor to wl^om it re- 
lated. If the monarch had taken it at all ‘seriously, he would 
have begun b)^ showing his displeasure at the rash narrator, 
''J’Jiat ho should sen'd his compliments, or, in Mr Hogg's words, 
desire his Compliments to be ghnif implies he must have forgot- 
ten both the purity of his language, mid the etiquette of his sta- 
tion. But the kind of nicssage-^the vile bnllbonei*y and clumsy 
conceit of it— really evinces a degree of vulgarity and affecUi- 
tion in the inventor which can only be equalled by the pro- 
found ignorance which it shows of the King's taste and cha- 

'Not content witli this, however, our author must needs put 
into the mouth of his present Majesty, a speech, which, if not 
so alisurd, is quite in the same taste, and, we will venture to 
assert, quite as credible as liie former. * He was beard (it 
* seems) to express himself one day before a dozen of gentle- 
‘ men of both nations, with the "'greatest warmth as follows. — 

I have always regarded the attachment of the Scots to the 
Pretender — I beg your pardon, gentlemen — to pi iiice Charles 
** Stuart 1 mean — ns a lesson to me xehom to trust in the hour 
of need. ” Really this is too much. Mr Hogg must have 
been either grossly gulled, or he has exercised his own fancy. 
When did any one — ^miich less any one of a fiunily remark- 
able for knowledge of etiquette, even beyond other royal per- 
sonages— ever talk of Prince Charles Stuart? We shall next 
hear, we suppose,* of Duke Frederick Guelph. These are not 
trifles— they demonstrate that some one's fenej’^ has been at work ; 
and, to the eye of a person who knows .such matters, they do as 
incontestably disclose the hand of the fabricator, as false ^kx>tch 
would betray to a countryman of Mr Hogg, the imposture of 
any one who should put into his mouth bad verses fabricated In 

* We presume the reader is aware, that all Mr Pitt's friends don^^ 
thi.s talc, which some one palmed upon Mr Ro^c. Itidced it refute^ 
itself. / 



T^ondon. pteamA Idcg is charged vfkhtB greater iii« 

decorum in one respect^ than eten that unputed to^ 'his veneiv 
able parent* Why, wc desire to know, should be trust those 
wIk) pertinaciously resisted, cnclearoured to destroy, and co®H 
tinned successful ly to ridicule his whole family, ratlier than 
those whcT unifurmly defended Uiem, and whose attadiment waa 
at least as steady, thougli somewhat more successful, than the 
hostility of the other party ? The King, we again assert, is 
incapable of such a low species of flattery ; and one iu which 
the part is so clumsily overdone, as to apologize to ‘ a dozen 
‘ gentle jpen of /jo/A nations’ for using the ordinary word Pre^ 
tendon TJiat he should ever ha\ e happened iu his whole life 
to be in such a society (paitly English, too, be it observed) as 
should not make the speech in question a most fulsome and in- 
appropriate compliment, w e think quite beyond all probability. 
After such specimens as those wc have now given, the reader 
will wonder the loss iit Mr Hogg’s concluding, by making die 
whole family Jacobites in direct terms* This feat he performs 
in the following fashion. 

^ Captain Stuart of Invernahoyle’s singular remark was not, it 
seems, quite without foundation. A gentleman, in a large compa- 
ny, gibed him for holding the king's commission, a hile, at the same 
tune, he was a professed Jacobite. So 1 well may, ” answered hc,^ 
** in imitation of# my masfet : the Ihg himself is a Jacointe/* ITie 
gentleman shook Ins head, and remarked, that the thing w’os Impos- 
fiiblc. By G— , said Stuart, ** but 1 tell you he is, and every 
son that he has. There is not pne of them who (if he had lived in 
my brave father's days) would not to a certainty have been hanged. 
pp. •I. xi. 

We can excuse the simplicity— the hon*h(mmie^ to use a word 
not ea^il;y translated — ^which could make this good old Centu- 
rion sw’allow and retail ^such nonsense. But Mr Hogg’s silli- 
ness is of a more dull cast ; and it is mixed up with suen prac- 
tical heresies as these — * Now, when the horrors of the Catholic 

* rcUgwn have ceased to oppress the minds of men, there is but 

* one wav of thinking on the rights of the Stuarts throughout 

* the realm,’ Whereby he means, if tlie passage has any sense 
at all, that the only objection to the family was their religion, 
or tathcr the hatred unreasonably felt of it in England, and 
that their right would now be universally admitted if they were 
still fn the field. Truly this writer knows little of either the 
i)dst; or present state of the country. — Do the de^spotic principles 
jpf the Stuarts go for nothing? I>i(l he never hear of the sta- 
i^ulcs wJntli proclaim tlio political delinquencies of the Stuarts 
and the Liturgy, in wliicii all England still returns thanks for 
being «ccincd from at bill ary poua as well as from Popciy? 


But to argue ivith sucb writers is waste of time ^-*•we onity ttotkpe 
their follies, b^use a fosbion eeexBs of late to have been iqpriiig- 
ing up of trea£iii)g die s^vous and unpardonable faults of the 
Stuarts more ‘'If^Otly &a& is consistent ^iih a due sense of the 
obligations #e owe to the ^itesi men who drove them from the 
country which Aey had misgoverned. Mr Hogg candies this a 
step furtber« and helps to cast imputations on tlie memory of 
those founders of a liberty which ne eitlicr cannot appreciate, 
because his principles are slavish, or scU little account upon, 
because its history — its adventures — will not serve to work* up 
into middling poems, and * Tales * calculated to lengthen and 
sadden a ‘ Winter^ s Evefiing. * 

The plan ol thib work, its politicks apart, is an extreme- 
ly laudable one. Many of the Jacobite Songs are worthy of a 
lietter cause ; and, indeed, its romantic features were far from 
being iU adapted to poetry. Certain it is, that if the sound prin- 
ciples lay entirely on one side, the good poetry was exclusively 
the lot of the other; and more tame and spiritless productions 
cannot well be conceived than those of the Whig bard^Mh^c 
effusions have been subjoined by Mr Hogg to his JHiDbite 
Relics, — for the purpose, it should seem, of siiowiiig their in- 
feriority, rather than with the candid intention of hearing both 
sides, it is not pronouncing too harsh u sciilcnce on tliese to 
affirm, that they rise but litue above the average merit of the 
collections frequently made of the squibs in use at contested 
Elections among our English neighbours— from whose pens, 
indeed, our national partialities are somewhat soothed to find that 
all those rhymes have proceeded. * Of all the Whig songs, * says 
the editor, ^ there is not one that 1 can trace to be of Scottish 
* original. * 

The Jacobite muse is very differently endowed ; though wc 
will confess tliat her warblings have somewhat disappointed us. 
Not that we deny the merit of many of them ; but pecauve the 

K ortion of insij)i<l, middling, and positively bad is far gteat- 
an we had expected. This may no doubt be owing to the 
compiler’s piste, wdiicli is evidently of a coarse and vulgar de- 
scription. f Ic has certainly had the means of discovering all 
the relics of value which exist; and few have probably perished 
iu the short period that has elapsed since they wore com nosod. 
VolumixiothS^ollcctions were open to his researches in the nands 
of all good Jacobites i Besides innumerable contrihnUirs of de- 
tached songs, he montions eleven of those stores; and, at length,.^ ^ 
they poured in tqion liiiii so profusely that he * actually grew^ 
‘ terrified when he heard of a MS. volume. * It adds greatly^^ 
to the value of the collection, that the inusick o^ each air ^ 

Jat6bit^ Belies* 


given; and copious notes are subjoined, conttfuing remarks 
and extracts — ^the former not always very happy or bleary cle- 
l^t — the latter generally from books in common use; but, up- 
on the whole, conveying a great deal of the information reqai- 
site to illustrate the text. These notes are, in bulk, exactly e- 
qual to the •text; and the Appendix, beside the Whig eniisions 
already nicntioncd, gives a number of Jacobite son^, the airs 
of which he could not dUco\cr. This class is inferior in merit, 
generally speaking, to the other, and comprises several English 

The first song in the volume is that famous one, ‘ The Km^* 
shall enjtilfhh mmi ctgain^ ’ which is said to have produced such 
marvellous effects in favour of the Royal cause during half of the 
seventeenth century, — and, during a great part of the eighteenth, 
^to have animated their falling hopes. It is altogether English, 
^and possesses no kind of })oetical merit. Probably the words of 
the burthen, and the air, may have been the cause of its success. 
In the notes upon it, Mr Hogg makes mention of a Dr Walker 
who * hapj)cncd to be aoerheer of the matktt at Iphmch in 8uf- 

* folk, on account of giving false evidence at an assize held 

* tliero. ’ (|i. 1S5.) In oilier words, he stood in the pillory for 
perjury. Now, if Mr Hogg thinks to make himself popular 
by imitating some of the bad and bald jokes of Walter ScoU^s 
liotes, we must whisper to him that it was in spite, ami not in 
consequence, of such things that the MinstreVs fame waxe^ f^reat. 
The third and fourth songs are in ridicule and vituperation of 
Leslie’s Maiches — to Scotland and to Marston Moor. Of the 
former, Mr Hogg says, ^ It is the most perfect thing of tlic 
‘ kind to be found in that or any other age ; and, wild as some 

* of the expressions are, must be viewed as a great curiosity. 

* It is the very essence of sarcasm and derision, and possesses a 
‘ spirit and energy for which we may look in vain in any other 
« song existing. ’ Sure we are, these remarks are any thing ra- 
ther Uian either perfect, or spirited, or even ‘ a curiosity * — ex- 
cept it be for containing at once a specimen of the batlios and 
the, hyperbole. A good notion of tlie taste of the editor may 
however be gathered from it. Wo therefore subjoin two verses 
of the piece he thus cxtolsr— premising that the second is so 
much <5Qarscr than even these, as to preclude our inserting it ; — 
for, of the Jacobite muse, it may be said, as was once observed 
‘ of bar Jacobin sister — though slie may have the mille omatuSf 

mille decenUr habrt is quite another matter. ’ 

* March ! — march I — ^piiiks of election, 

Why the devil don't you march onward in order 
March ! — ^march !— dogs of redemption, 

pre the blue bonnets come over the Border. 


Jms^Ue Rcl 'm. 

You st^iU {vreach^ you ehall i>rajr, 

. You AbiH'liOttch ni^t and day, 

You shai] ptaviaA o^cr'tho kirk gone awhoring ; 
l!^Oe in blood to the knees, 

Blood of God's enemies ! 

The d6ag|hterB of Scotland shall sing you to snoring^ 

March It— marcli ! — scourges of heresy 1 
Down with the kirk and its whilliebaleery ! 

March 1— march !~-^own with supremacy 

And the kist fu* o* whistles, that maks sic a deary ; 

^ Fife-men and pipers braw. 

Merry deih, tak them a'. 

Gown, lace, and livery — lickpot and ladle ; 

Jockey shall wear the hood, 

’ Jenny the sark of God — 

For codpiece and petticoat, dishclout and daidle. * pp. 5-7- 

This extract has brought us at once to the cardinal defect of 
Mr Hogg, as the editor of a selection. He praises almost in- 
discriminately, and he wants delicacy almost entirely. Thus 
he describes, in one note, a poem on George the First's arrival 
in England, and public entry into his capital, as having ^ more 
humour of the kind than any thing he ever saw ; ' as * ^ 

high treat; ’ an * old poem of sterling rough humour, ' anCso 
<brth ; yet, from the six or seven pnges of it which he gives as a 
siunplc, w'e should be disposed to tljiiik it one of tliose rough 
diamotids (as they are termed), the roughnesss of which is ad- 
mitted — the value uncertain ; a remark applicable to the men, 
as well as the verses, which are frequently so designated. It is 
dull, flat, and extremely indelicate. Of the coarseness we dare 
not give specimens ; let these lines suffice to show forth its otheji^ 

‘ Next these a Presbyterian Shot-man, 

In state affiiirs a very hot man, 

Advanc'd among the 'prentice boys 
And prick-ear'd saints, those sons of noise, 

Who seldom in such pomp appeaiT 
Elated, but when danger's near. 

This rank republican, and great 
Reformer of the church and state, 

Alth^gh he's rich, yet made his father 
His or his packhorsc rather, 

And threaten'd ofl, as some have heard him, 

In case he grumbled, to discard him ; 

Yet every Tuesday cramm'd a crew, 

Of pantile parsons, God knows who, 

VA'hiJst his poor father, now at ease, 

Was glad to feed on bread and cheese : 



For which, and other thit^ as had. 
Returning &om the cavalcade, 
llit» courser gave him such a eant^ 

That broke the noddle of die saint, 

^d would have given hib brains a bruise, 
But tliat he’d none to hurt or lose. * p. 277* 

Wc should fatigue Our readers, weic mc only to make refer- 
ences to the instances of this editors gross and coarse taste, with 
which this volume abounds. Some songs and prose qnotationb 
seem, indeed, selected for no other merits than their vulgar ri- 
baldry. "^^^hy else, for instanci, is the passage fiom the mock 
fiinei III oration on Hugh Peters given at p. ^57 r* Not surely 
to display the editor’s acquaintance with history, which is so 
^ great tliat he stops to inform his readers wlio Hugh Peters 
and speaks of him as a person wholly unknown. 

But another principle of selection is much more apparent 
throughout the book. The text is filled with song<«, and the 
notes witli extracts, the only merit of which is their vii uleiit 
abuse of the Hanoverian of Constitutional party, or, os they 
are generally denominated, the Wliigs. And, as the old Whigs 
of the Covenant are vilified under die same name, Mi Hogg 
manifestly indulges in the insertion of attacks upon them, with 
the hope that the great body of persons now known by that deno- 
mination may shaic the odium or the ridicule scattered by those 
obsolete lamjjoons. We must pass over die vile and filthy at- 
tacks upon George 1. and his favourites, because wc cannot, 
widioui offence to all propriety, cite them ; but, as a specimen 
of the rancour which dictates Mr Hogg’s selections, we would 
refer to the several son^s against Bibliop Burnet, which are ut- 
terly destitute of either poetiy or wit, and do not even pretend 
to be of Scotch origin. In scurrility and barefaced falsehood, 
however, they make ample amends for all their odier defects ; 
whereof take one instance. The Bishop is not only represented 
as having had ‘ a spice of every vice, ’ but his greedifiesss of 
goU H pardculaily bpecified. In the notes on these pieces, Mr 
Hogg says not a word to cozttradict this notorious untruth; 
though, with singular ignorance of the subject, he does say 
that ^ was always a moderate man. ’ Dr King, in his Me- 
moirs (and he was a staunch JTacobitc), while he truly represents 
him as ‘ a furious ])arty man, and easily imposed upon, ’ adds 
jh*t ^ he was a better pastor than any man who is now seated on 
bench of bishops ; ’ and prais^ him for his exemplary dis- 
jChtercstedness and carelessness of gain, which was so gicat that 
* he only left his children their mother’s fortune, dooming it cri- 
minal to save a farthing of his Episcopal revenues. After this 


Jaeobtt0 Jktki, 

the reader v/Sl ber^Sl^'lees Buipriaed to Icam, tibat thie XK^ke of 
Marlborotigh H fej^CBeitted in me aong, as as difFicuU to be re- 
scued fVom beU as the Bishop ; and that King William is cele- 
brated in anolheir for his cowardice in battle. One * excellent 
song’ is dedicated to the abuse of the celebrated Archibald, 
Earl of Ar^ylc, who fell a victim, in 1685, to the most atrocious 
and T^fidtous tyranny tiiat ever cursed any modern nation. 
Tlie Tollowitig is the concluding stanza. 

* Thus having yielded up baith his sword and durk. 

These bonny boys convey'd him to Edinburg ; 

Where with a train he enters the Watergate, 

The hai}gman walking before him in muckic state^ 

With a hemp garter. 

The martyr 
To quarter. 

And by the lugs to cut the loon shorter. 

The sonne fate ever wait 
To crown the rebefs pate, 

And all such traitors as dare oppose the state. * p. 177* 

Not a syllable is added by Mr Hogg on tlie vile and dull 
scurrility of this * excellent Scotcli song, ’ as he is pleased to 
term it — not a word upon the detestable oppression here dig- 
nified with the name of ‘ the state;’ and to oppose which is 
held so foul a crime. Y^t it relates to the man of whom Mr 
Fox, in his History, has closed the biography in these memora- 
ble words — * Such were the last hours, and such the final close 
^ of this great man’s lifo. May the like hapi>y serenity, in such 
^ drcadfin circumstances, and a death equally glorious, be the 

* lot of all whom tyranny, of whatever denomination and de- 

* scription, shall in*^any age or country call to expiate their vir- 
‘ tiies on the scafibld ! ’ p. 211. And with reference to whom, 
as if with a prophetic knowledge of the sort of persons who 
were likely to join in crying down so illustrious a martyr to 
liberty, he afterwards remarks, that our ^ disgust is turne<! into 
« something like compassion for that very foolish class of men 

* whom the world calls wise in their generation. ’ 

One of tlicsc songs, professing to give the character' of a 
Whig, we are told by the critic, was a great favourite with 
|i the Tory clubs of Scotland during the late war, in detestation 
those* who deprecated the principles of Pitt;’ and he ob- 
serves, that it is * the most violent ot all the party songs, bitter 
^ as they arc. ’ For tliis reason alone is it here inserted; fo^^ 
dulness is at least cc^ual to ifs violence. Of its correct applicfe^ 
tion to the Whigs of our day, the reader may judge, when 
h told that it begins with describing tlicm jw sahitlf/ hifporriUs^ . 
All this, however, suits Mr IIogg’4 nice and clcanlv paUto. 


ifiightlly ; md that we may lhave encm^^ 
subjoins lite. prose cbaraetcr of a Wbi^, ‘ drawn 
brated Budet-, * and which sets out witn stating him ter 

• * spawn <rf a regicide, hammered out of a rank^ Jnahe^^ 

‘ pocrite ; ^ .and forthwith: becomes too indei^t to be further 

• transcribed* "We will here Just mention, for the edification of 

Mr Hogg^ that the * celebrated Butler, ’ who, among many 
other vituperations, compares a Whig to the nettfe, because 
< the more gendy you handle him, the more be is apt to hurt 
* you, ’ is well known to those who know any thing of literary 
history, ta have lived in the supported by the bounty, 

of Sir S. Luke, one of Cromwell’s captains, at the very time 
he planned his Hudibras, of which he was pleased to make 
his kind and hospitable patron the hero. Now we defy the his- 

^’^ry of Whiggism to match this anecdote,— or to produce so 
choice a specimen of the human nettle. 

That we may not close this article without a specimen of the 
good songs which the book contams, we shall extract the one 
which, for sly characteristic Scotch humour, seems to us the 
best ; though we doubt if any of our English readers will re^ 
lish it* 

* Donald’s gane up the hill h^rd and hungry ; 

Donald comes down the bill wild and angry ; 

Donald will clear the gouk’s nest cleverly. 

Here’s to the king ana Donald Macgillavry. ♦ 

Come like a weigh-bauk, Donald Macgillavry, 

Come like a weigh-bauk, Donald Macgillavry ; 

Balance diem fair, and balance them cleverly ; 

Off wi* the counterfeit, Donald Macgillavry. 

Donald’s run o’er the hill but his tctlier, man, 

As' he were wud, or stang’d wi’ an ether, man ; 

. When ho comes back, there’s some will look merrily : 

Here’s to King James and Donald Macgillavry. 

Come like a weaver, Donald Macgillavryf 
Come like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry, • 

Pack on ypuT back, and elwand sae cleverly ; 

Gie them full measure, my Donald Macgillavry. 

. Donidd has foughtep wi’ lief and roguery ; 

j^onald has dinner’d wi’ banes and beggary ; 

, Better it were for Whigs and Whiggery 
"Sleeting the Devil than Donald Macgillavry. 

Come like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry, 

Ccme like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry ; 

^ Donald Macgillavry is here put for the Highland Clans gene- 
' IrillV 

P-usli 'tMIkad^k' tbent ^d^verly* ■ 

ihktlirpoks nao tanglencss ; 

sC ncw&nglencss, 

be : he trShna be baukit, man;r 
Ilia justi or faith he’ll tak it, man. 
%iifea4ike a cobler, Dondd M^cgillavry, 

Come like a cobler, Donald Macgillavry ; 

Beat them, and bore them, and Jingel them cleverly. 
Up' wi* King James and Donald Macgillavry I 

Donald was mumpit wi’ mirds.and mockery ; '* 

Donald was blinded wi’ blads 6’ property ; 

Arles ran high, but makings were naething, man : 

Lord, how Donald is flyting and fretting, man ! 

Come like the devil, Donald Macgillavry, 

Come like the devil, Donald Macgiilavry ; 

Skelp them and scaud them tl)at prov’d sae iinbritherly. 

Up wi’ King James and Donald Macgillavry I * p. 100-102- 

Art. VIII. The Sketch Bmk. By Geoffrey Crayon, Gent. 

2 Vols. 8vo. London, 1819, 1820. 

^^HOUGH this is a very pleasing book in itself, and displays 
no ordinary reach of thought tmd elegance of fancy, it is 
not exactly on that account that we are now tempted to notice 
it as a very remarkable publication, — and to predict that it will 
form an era in the literature of the nation to which it belongs. 

It is the w ork of an American, entirely bred and trained in that 
country — originally publhhed within its territory— and, as we 
understand, very extensively circulated, and very much admir- 
ed among its natives. Now, the most remarkable thing in a 
work so circumstanced certainly is, that it should be written 
throughout with the greatest care'aod eocurac}’', and worked 
up to great purity and beauty of diction, on the model of the 
most degant and polished ot our native writers. It is die first 
American work, we rather think, of. any description, but cer- 
tainly the first purely literary production, to which we dt^tild give 
this praise; and we h^e and trust that we may hail it ai the har- 
biiH^r of a purer aneV juster taste — |;he foundation of a chastei' 
end better school, for the writers of tliat great and intelli^At 
country.' Its genius, as we have frequently observed, has not 
therto been much turned to letters; and, what it has j^'oducc& 
in that department, has been defective in taste certaimy rather ^ . 


^ 0btdi fifioi* 

tlyyi in taliiMU 
pf«setit will 

hc^ WM 

m of 


and abfomdf il 9 |.a(to^^ 

«h^ Imi Ihm aMiniim «a4thati^wa'| 
fives tb« tuampi* eC llwir lageojow epapjl 
ivlHdi the pMcepti 4W etnungein do Bot MiHfi. 

ana JMaMI 

thet Ihmoii 
ua^ to have 

waemiadined toSMtoaettoaMtokr <t eeN|^ltoiC|totoiiojiistto 
the oalJiariiot to e 4 id» that he doarvet pammeada^ 

tk»» for itt mom ee fee^thil ^ywJitiee t Mto y^mve sddora 

eem a work that gi^re iw a rooi»eli<)i>«^gh>mp^^ the writ* 
^e dbaratoM* or a more toronreme one oTow jndgmait and 
'tatte. There is a tone <f fttmetaaod tednto m o e— ii^ pt gea- 
tletiMi and pbOantlinqqr m imaffietadly ^md through the 
adwle wW^ and toe^ieriBg aod hannoBiBhtg so gKK»fii%» 
both with Ua petohw and it* 91^ htMaQar% at to dkann ali 
oidtoerily good-natured cridct of their eaperity, and to secure 
to the aimory fiom all worthy readers, the same candour and 
htodnew of which he sets so jaudahle an example. The want 
is of &rce and (ur^inality fai the toasouhigi and speculative 
fwrts, and of boldness and hiddent in the tovsntive : — though 
the pl||toe of these more commanding qualities is not ill supplied 

* Willie we are opto toe subject df Americto literstere, to thidc 
esHMdves tolled upon to state* that we have lately reeetod two 
MfltoMto heieg those fto January and AprQ last* of * The Sortk. 
jftiiiirflilBW it0tkm, vr jKmteBaHeous Jeitrrud, ’ pubhshcd quarterly at 
fieetou, w f ie h aopesie te us to be by &r the best and most pBows* 
hlg SHilaiSlIiao to die press of that couotiy that has ever come to 
torhondb It is wtj iilsls with great spint, Ustohm end ebihty* <ma 
SehliieHS » «ad ahoundt widyfmnpund ahd origmal 
‘ n i to dto i toS l ring topics. iWgh abundantly pa- 

T%e Book. 

by grent tnd sound sense, and by a very 4bonsiderable 

vein of Imnioar, aiid no ordinary grace and tendeiness of fan- 
cy* Tbe iMEinar fierbaps throughout is more attended to than 
tne matteirs abd the care necessary to maintain the rythni and 
polish it ihd«^tences, has sometimes interfered with the ^ce 
of the reasming, or limited and impoverished the illustrations • 
they might otherwise have supplied. 

We have forgotten all this time to infbrm our readers, that 
Ae publication consists of a series or collection of detached es- 
says and tales of various des)C!ription<(— originally published a- 
part, in the form of a periodical miscellany, for tbe instruction 
and delight of America — and now collected into two volumes 
for the refreshment of the English public. The English writ- 
ers whom the author has chiefly copied, are Addison and Gold-^ 
smith, in the humorous and discursive pai'ts — and our own ex-' ” 
cellent Mackenzie, in the more soft and pathetic. In their 
highest and most charactcribtic merits, we do not mean to say 
that he has equalled any of his originals, or even to deny thj^ 
he has occasionally caricatured their defects. But the resects* 
blance is near enough to be highly creditable to any living au- 
Aor ; and there is sometimes a compass of reasoning whi3i his 
originals have but rarely attained. 

To justify these renoarks, we must now lay a spedfneti or two 
of this (Hesperian essayist before fmr readers ;~and we shall 
b^in with one that may give some idea of his humorous vein, 
and his f!)Ower of pleasant narration, at Ae same time that it 
relates to the scenery and superstitions of his native country. 
We allude to Ae legend of Rip Van Winkle, Which begins as 

* Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudsdn, remember 
the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismember^ braifdi of Ae 
great Appalachian family, and are seen away to Ae'wAt of the river, 
swelling up to a noble height, and lording it evet thgUBthMtAdSng 
country* Every diange of season, every Aan^ Of 
every hour of the day, produces somw ohahge Ih file Aigical hues 
and shapes of these mountains, and they are tbgaMed fay elf ftmd 
wives, far and near, as perfect barometers. Whed the is 

fair and settled, they am clothed in blue and piitpte, aud fjfriat Aeir 
bold outlmes on Ae clear evening sky ; but somothues, WhOd Ad rest 
of Ae landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hood erf grey vl^urs 
about their summits, which, in Ae last mys of the Setting Will 

gleam wiHttig the tree*, joet whet« thh blue tmt* of flul ufiHmd toelt 
stnqr into the fresh green of the nearef Ishdtcape. It 1* h Uttife viN , 
ktfi of groat •nti^oity, having been founded by some of tbe Dbtch 

1890 . 

Tkt Sketch Book. 


colonists, i|i idietSArfy iiittes of the province, just dbout the jMjgiimiag 
of the f^voihiipeat of the good Peter 8tu\ vetanr, 1 h» in 

peace !) and* there itW seme of the houses oK the origirnd af^ttieie 
stmiding within a iW* years, built of smalt yelloar bricks brought from 
Holland) Iwiag latticed ^windows and gable fronts, surmounted with 

< In that same village, and in <me of these very houses, (which, to 
tell the prosw truth, was SS^4(y vrorn apd weathtr beaten,) there 
lived, many years sinna, while the country was yet a province* of 
Great Britain, a simple good uaUtred fellow, of tlie name ot Rip Van 
Winkle. p, 57-^B. 

We pahs over a very entisrtaining account of lionest Rip’t* 
Bufleringb under a termagant wife, and of tlie various pastimes 
with which he sought to cheat ibe miseries of his thtaldom. 

. * Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of 

matriinony rolled on ; a tart temper never mellows with age, and a 
sharp tongue is the only edge-tool that grows keener with constant 
use. For a long while he used to console himself, when driven from 
home, by fVoquCnting a kind of perpetual club of the sages philoso- 
phers, and other idle personages of the village ; wliieh held its sessions 
on a bench before a small inn, designated by a rubicund portrait of 
his Majesty George the Third. Here they used to sit in the shade, 
of a long lazy summer^s day, talk Kstlessiy over village gossip, or tell 
endless sleepy stories about nothing. But it would have been worth 
any i^tatesinan's money to have heard the profound discussions that 
Bapaetinieb took place, when by ch mce an old newspaper fell into 
thmr hands, from some passing tiaveller. How solemnly they would 
list^p to the contents, as drawled out by Derrick Van Bummel, the 
schoolmaster, a 4apper learned lirtie man. who was not to be daunt- 
ed by the most gigantic word in the dictionary ; and how sagely they 
wnmid deliberate Hppn public events some months after they had 

driven {rom this retreat, he used to take his gun and 
abf^aquirreUidLday among the mountains. 

* a loug ramble of this kind, on a fine autumnal day, Rip had 
unpoiisi^iajlly one of the highest parts of the Kaatskiil 

mouofaiffi) ^Hawas^aftef his Aivourite sport of squirrel bhooting; 
a^tl^HSAlilQilNSlitpdmJ^ado^ wuh the reports of 

hifl^Un^ ,J^ting afpd &tigUed, he threw himseif, late in the affer- 
Ml^cgreeo knoB, covered with mountain herbage, that crown- 
ed tba af a precipice. From an opening between the trees he 
could the fewer country for many a mile of rich wood* 

la^ m$ saw «t a distance the lordly Hudson, far, far below him, 
wsijestic course, with the reflection of a pur- 
here and there sleeping on 

itkcbaiy M 43iud,at last Iwog itself in the blue highlands. 

M On m etlier side ha ^looked down into a deep mountain glen, 
wiidi^ loifejly^ nsul shagged, the bottom filled with fragments from die 

L 2 

jTV Sketch Book. 

impendiig eliA« imd Acard^ Hgl^ed the refuted nya of the set- 
ting son. Eor some time Rip 1^ musing on this scene i erening wse 
grimualljr otenoiiig ; the mountainB began to throw their Icmg blue 
shadows over tiie valleys ; he saw thdt it would be daric long oefore 
he oo«M toadi the viUa^ and he heaved a heavy si^ when he 
thought of encountering the terrors of Dame Van Winide. 

* As Im was ai^t to descend) he heard a voice from a distance, 
hallooing) Rip Van Winkle ! Rip Van Winkle ! ” He looked 
round) but could see nothing but a crow winging its solitary flight 
across die mountain. He thought his fancy must have deceived him, 
and turned again to descend) when he heard the same cir ring throu^ 
the still evening air ; ** Rip Van Winkle ! Rip Van Winkle ! *’ — ^ He 
looked anxioudy in the same direction) and perceived a strange figure 
dowly toiling up the rockS) and bending under the weight of some- 
thing he carried on his back. He was surprised to see any humane > 
being in this lonely and unfrequeated place; but supposing it to be 
some one of Uie neighbourhood in need of his assistance, he hastened 
down to yield it. 

< On nearer approach) he was still more surprised at the singula- 
rity of the stranger's appearance. He was a short square built old 
fi^oW) with thick: budiy hair, and a grizzled beard. His dress was 
of the antique Dutch fwion—- a cloth jerkin strapped round the waist 
— several pair of breeches, the outer one of ample volume, decorat- 
ed with rows of buttons down the sides, and bunches at the knees. 
He bore on his shoulder a stout keg, that seemed full of liquor, 
and made signs for Rip to approach and assist him with the load. * 
pp. 68—70. 

They scramble up the ravine together in silence, till they 
reach a green hollow in the bosom of the mountains. 

< On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder pte$ented 
themselves. On a level ^t in the centre was a company of pdd- 
looking porsonages playing at nine-pins. They were dressed in a 
quaint) outlandisli famon : some wore short doublets, oAm jerkins, 
with long knives in their belts, and most of them had enonnaus 
breeches, of similar style with that of the guide"!* Theur visages, 
too, were peculiar : one had a large head, btead atrf small pig- 
gish eyes ; the face of another seemed to consist eathnly efneis^ and 
waa aurmounted by a white sugafloaf hat, set oflT with a little red 
cockstail. They all had beards, of various ihapes and cdoiurs. Ithere 
sras one who seemed to be the commander. He was a stejBdeld gen- 
tleman, with a weatber*beaton countenance. He wore a laeed dou- 
blet, broad belt and hanger, high crowned hat and fiesilherj, red 
atoc^gs, and high heeled shoes, with roses in them. The whole 
group reimnded Rip of the figures in an old flemU pab^m, |q the 
paslQur of Dominie Van Scfa&ck, the village paxson, and smcjhhBd 
been brought over from Holland at the time of the aeitlemeht* 

^ What seemed particularly odd to Rip, was, that though these folks 
were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest* 

T%e SkeiA Boc/k. 



&ces, the mget myeterioiti eOence, and were, withal, the hmW: vneian-- 
choly party of pleaaiire he had ever witnessed. Nothiiig iiitMiipfe^ 
the etiDness of m scene, but the noise of the balls, whiSi, whenever 
‘ thqr were rolled echoed along the mountains like nimbliog peab of 

* As Rip, hod h!s companion approached them, they suddenly do* 
sisted from thdr play. His companion now emjpided the contents of 
the keg into large flagons, and imde signs to him to wait upon the 
company. He obeyed with fear and trembling : they quaffiad the li- 
qUor in profound silaice, and then returned to their game. 

* By degrees, Rip’s awe and apprehet^don subsided. He even ven* 
lured, wh&i no eye was fixed upon him, to taste the beverage, which 
he found had much of the flavour of excellent Hcfilands. He was na- 
turally a thirsty soul, and was soon tempted to repeat the draught. 
One taste provoke another ; and he reiterated his visits to the fia- 
*gon so often, that at length his senses were overpowered ; Ins eyes 
swam in his head ; his head gradually declined, and he fell into a d^ 

* On waking, he found himself on the green knoll ftom whence hg 
had fint seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes^it was 
a brigm sunny morning. The birds were hopping and twittering a- 
mong the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting 
the pure mountain breeze. ** Surely, ” thought Rip, X have not 

slept here all night. ” He recalled the occurrences before he fell 
asleep. The strange man with a keg of liquor— 4he mountain ravine 
— the wild retreat among the rocks — ^the wo-begone party at nine- 
f>b)8 — the flagon — Oh ! that flagon I that wiqk^ floj^n ! ” thought 
|iip^<< what excuse shall 1 make to Dame Van Winkle ? ” 

* He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean well-oiled 
fowling-piece, he found an old fir^ock lying by him, the barrel en- 
crusted "with rust, the lock failing off, and the stock worm-eaten. Ho 
now suspected that the grave roysters of the mountain had put a trick 
Upon him, and having dosod him with liquor, bad robbed him of his 
gun. Wolfl too, had disappeared, but he might have strayed away 
after a sqUirVd or jiattridge. He whistled after him and shouted his 
name, but all in vain $ the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but 
Mif^vtoatobaseoR.’ p. 72-75. 

I^apends eotoe time, in a fruitless search, for the scene and 
the iompantbns of his evening revel; and at last resolyes to go 

< Ai fee amroached the village he met a number of people, but 
nonjS whom he knew, which somewhat surprised him, for he had 
AoujB|ht himself acquainted vflth every one in the country round. 
^Thetr dress, tou, was of a different fashion from that to which he was 
accustojStod. *][hey all stared at him with equal marks of surprise ; 
imd iVheiMye^ cast eyes upon him, invariably stroked their chins, 
^e exmiant recmirencc of thUgettore induced Itip, involuntarily, to 
the sgme^ when, to 1|is astonishment, he found Ins heard had grown 
afimt bag! 




‘ He l^d the skirts af the viHiige. A c^stranij^ 

ebtldf^d^'^S*i%j'li[Jp-tedsrhootih^ and pc>lh,Hiik ^ 

be^, recogoii^iM rorfb hla a^* 

qudhJtimc^^nrafSfed at him ab*lie The very ir4s*|iter- 

ed : it hilTger and niore populous. There were ro^ ^of hoi};^ 
iWhch he jfiaS never steeih b^ore, and those which had hi$ lami- 
R|^'hh1^t^ bad df§[a|»peared'. Strange "nu^nes were over the dbdrs-— 
roiii^e ffices dt the windows — ev^^thing wjas strange. His mind 
nu# hfiiitgave him :’ he to doubt whether both he and the world 
around him’ wei^ tibtlibwitdi^d p. *77, 78. 

He looks in vain for his antiebt dame and hU dog ; leav- 
Jpg his ^ 

' hurried' forth, aiid hastened to his old resort, the village 

inn — h^ it too Was gone. A large rickeit^r wooden hutldiug stood 
in 118 ^ace, with great gaping windows, sQnie of them broken, and- 
mdhded with old hats and petticoats, and over the door was painted, 
Tlie Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle. ” Instead of the great 
tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now 
was reared a tall naked pole, with soncu^thing on top that looked like 
a red night cap, and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was b 
singular assemblage of stars and stripes— all this v as strange and in- 
coumrehensible. He recognised on the sign, however, the ruby face 
pf King George, under which he bad smoked so many a peacefol 
pipe, but even this was singularly metamorphosed, The red coat 
was changed fm* one of blue and hiift’, a sword was held in the hand 
instead of a sceptre, the head was decorated with a cocked hat, and 
underneatli was painted in large characters, Ge^jjsral WASHiJsrGTok. 

‘ There was, as usual, a crowd of folk abpiit the door, but none 
that Rip recollected. TJie very character of the people seemed 
changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone aboui^tt, 
instead of the accustomed plilegm and drpwsV, tranquility. He 
cd in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, wiui his.;l^pa 4 do^lo 
chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobaqi^ smokej^tea^ of 
{die speeches ; or Van Bummel, the schoolmaat^t ,&e 

contents of an ancient newspaper. In place ^ j^e^e, a 
leoking fellow, with his pockets full of Imn^ll^^ w^ barangujliig; ve* 
hemently about rights of citizens — election— moipbaia of coi^gr||g||^~ 
liberty — Bunker’s hill— heroes of seventy-six-^-^d other wpi^^' thj^t 
were > perfect Babylonish jargon to foe feewildered Van ' 

‘ Tie appearance of Rip, with his long grizzled ,hia ri^y 

Ibwling piece, his uncouth dress, and 1^0 f^rt^y of women !i;nd 
dre^ that had gathered at his heels, soon, attracted t]be of 

the tavern politicians. They crowded rpund him, eyeing hfm fSr^ 
head to ^r, with great curiosity. The orator busded/qp'tp hp, 
'SstA' drawing him partly ajside, inquired ** on which side ” 

jsl^ed inya&nt hupyilj. Anofoe|r short but 
pulled' him by the arm, and rising on tiptoe, inqtui^ iw 
whether he was Federal or Democrat. *' Rip was cquaBjr ft a 


to ^€tto<m; when ^ knowing, old 

cocked his w^y ,|hr 0 uglt^,orair 4 » 

pnuic^ theiiii to,|he ligljt «nd left elbows as he pass^ 

plantiagJMti^^ Von, WiBJdo* with one IIW® akin*o, the biher 
rearing^ hi$ oapio> Men eyes and sharp hat penQtratMh 
weiw» i9jlo*hi0 wcssjr. soid,^ doiiiandedf in an tone, ‘‘ w^t 

broii^ him to tbe^^leMim wkh. a gun hi&, Mulder, and 

at his hee}s^ and: whether lie tP Meed a^iiot in tM village? ” 
** Alas! gentlemen/’ cried Rip, somewntiltjiism|^^ l4m g,peM 
4|uiet mail, a native of the iM 
God hleca Jilm ! ” .^ , .Kf , . , . 

* (leisg a general sheet hnrft ftom the bys|ai[;^iW^^ a 

tory ! a spy i. a refjugee * hustle himJI away^^ilht hM|,'^;iit jp^ 
great difficulty that the selfTiinportgnt mm in the>^^kpdr w res^oj^- 
cd order ,; gnd having assumed a tenfold auvten|;y of, Maw, dsfium 

’ again of tlie unknown culprit whgt he came there, foe, and 
was seeking. The poor ipen humbly assured bi^ that he meant Pp 
harm, but merely came there in search of some of his neighbours, 
who used to keep about the tavern. WeU-r*^ho are they 
name tliem. ” — Rip bethought hhnself a moment, and inquired, 
“ Where*8 Nicholas Vedder ? ” — Tliere was a silence for a little 
while, when an old man replied, in a thin piping voice, Nicholas 
Vedder ? why he is dead and gone these eigM^^n years ! There was 
a wooden tombstone in the churchyard tliat used to tell all about 
him, but that’s rotted and gone too. ” — “ Where’s Brpm Dutcher ? ” 
— Oh, he went off to the army In the beginning of the war ; some 
say he was killed at tlie storming of StoneyoPoint — others say he was 
drowned in a squall at the foot of Antony’s Nose. I don’t Mow-— 
be never came back again. ” — Where’s Van Bjummel, the scho<d- 
master ? ” — He yreot off to the wars too, was a great militia gehe- 
rai, and is now in Congress. ” — Rip’s heart died away, at hearing of 
these sad change in hts home and ftiends, aud finding himself thus 
' alone in the world* Rvery answer puzzled him, too, by treating of 
such enormous lapseit of time, and of matters which he could not un» 
deratand : war — congress — Stoney-Point ; — ^he luid no courage to ask 
after my more friends. 

* "At this critiicai moment a fresh likely-looking woman pressed 

the throng to get a peep at the grey -bearded man. She had 
cfaHd in her arms, which, frightened at his looks, began to 
cry. Hush, Rip, ” cried she, ** hush, you little fool, the old man 
Won^ hurt yoo. The name of the child, the air of the mother, the 
tone of ^ awakened a train of recollections 4n his miiid. 

** Whai im my good woman?” asked ho- — Judith 

• Gardanier."’^— i. And your Other’s name ? ” — ” Ah, poor man, ^I'is 
aazpa fmi fitp Van Winkle; it’s twenty years since he went away from 
bcme jjii^ bi» gun, and never has been heard of aiuce — his dog came 
Mmoji^oitt Mm; but whethm M ^bpt hux»mlf/or was carried away 


Ifk Skdch Sooit 


by the Indim, wwfcojy em teU- I«aBthenbotafittI«giil.”wEip 
bad but oa» gmawiiiii aor« to a«k ; but he put it with a idtariqg 
veioe:>~** Hwii^yonr aMther?”— Oh, she too bad died but « 
abort tiaae abupt alMbrokeablood-ueaidinafitofpaMionat»Meir> 
EM^BadpeAar.-^Therewasadropofeaeafort, at leasts mthaabio 
taD%aBoe. Iba bonest mau could co nt a in hfanadf no ion 9 ar«w-iie 
mnvA bb daMbter and her oUld in hb anqa«— “ I am jrour &- 
ibari'* died he~** Yawg Kip Van WinUa opoe— old By Van 
Widtle nmr ! ” 60^7, 

tTfMm bb idenatify buiiV dtify aaoertaioad, bob taken boMe 
to hb daughter’s hous^ and remmet most ofbb aotientbditta. 

* Ha osM to tell hb atoiy to every atranger that arri^ at Mr 
Deolittia’s hotd> Ha «aa wsarved, at first, to vary <m some paiab 
asary time he told it, nbidi ma, doubtless, oviqg to hb hanng so 
ipcentf y amdced. It at last settled dawn j^redsdy ta the tale I haioe 
lahted, and not a men, woBum, or child m die ndf^ibourhood, but 
Icneir it by heart fiome always pretended to dor^ the reaKty of it, 
and insbted that Rip had been out of his head, and that this was one 
pwnt on whidi he mways remabed flighty. The old Dutdi inhabi* 
tants, however, almost universally gave it full credit Evai to thb 
day Acy never hear a thunder storm of a summer afternoon, about 
the Kaatskili, but th^ say Hendrick Hudson and bb crew are at 
their game of rune pins ; and it b a common wish of all henpecked 
husbands in the n^hbourhood, when life hangs hea^on their hands, 
that they might have a quietmg draught out of Rap Van Winkle’s 
flagon. ’ pp. 91-dfl. 

We have made rather laige extracts from thb facetious le- 
yet have mangled it a little in our abridgement. 
But it seemed lair and courteous not to stint a stranger on bb 
^rst introduction to our pag^; and what we have^uoteil, we 
are persuaded* will justify Si that we have said in bb favour. 

We shall Qow maxe another long extract from a paper of a 
verydiflerent character; an essay on tlie temper in wnidi re- 
pent Englbh write's have spoken of America. The ttme of the 
author upon tiab delicate subject u admirable — and tfae sub- 
stance of bis tdMenratioqs sp unaasweralfly just and reascoidjle, 
t^t we cannot help thinking that they wdT produce beneficial 
effisets, in bdth the couatriM to which ihs9^ triate. He bet^ 
by observing, tluti, notwithstandi^ the grCat intercotonse wmch 
edbsbts between the two countries, * there is no Peimle con- 

* cernh^ whom the gjeeat mass of the British pablic has leH 

* pure informatum, or entertains mere namerous jtf^iidices.* 

And tins he explains, in pai% by suggestkig that— * « 

* H has been me peculiar lot of our country to be vinted by the 
wbM kind of English travellets. While men of fdiiloeoplilcil i^rit 
tttd 9pltiv«^ (niM havf been envoys from lS»i^HaA to rpsiack the 


Sketch iBookm 


l^lwy to ibti dieserte, and toitudy tlie mwuim indei^^ 

o£ bortmoui naidoiis^ with whidi she can have no pciliment ioMr* 
eotitee of profit or pleasure; it has been left to Uie brdbadowa 
• Mdesman^ the scheming odrenturer, the wandering medianio, fire 
Mandwstor and Hrminghain agents to be her oracles 
America. ’From sudi sources she it content to receive her infor^<p 
tion retpeOting a country in a mgolar state of moral and phyiri^ 
de? elopment : a country in width one of the greatest political ex|^ 
riments in the history of the world is now perfbrming, and whedh 
pMCnts Ihe most profeand and momentoui ihidiet to me ttateaman 
and the nhiloeopher. ’ pp. 99*4a0. 

What foUow!s» however, is of mfinitdiy i^roaier ioiportatice— 
and we have the lest scruple in borrownig largely from tbit 
part of the work before us, that we should otbenrise have Mt 
. it our duty to endeavour, ih our own words, to inculcate ikre 
aame dbetrincs,-- most probably whb less authority, at least on 
our side of the water, and ccrtaiiily wiUi less elegance and force 
of writing. 

* I shall not, however, dwell on this irksome and hackneyed to- 
pic ; nor should I have adverted to it| but for the undue interest ap- 
parently taken in it by my countrymen, and certain injurious e%cts 
which I apprehended it might produce upon the national feeling. Wc 
attach too much consequence to these attacks. They cannot do us 
any essential injury. The tissue of misrepresentations attempted to 
be woven round us, are like cobwebs woven round the limbs of an in- 
font giant. Our country continually outgrows them. One falsehood 
after another falls off of itself. We have but to live on, and every 
day we live a whole volume of refutation. All the writers of Eng- 
land united, if we could for a moment suppose their great minds 
stooping to so unworfoy a combination, could not conceal our raptd- 
]y-grovrag importance and matchless prosperity. They could not 
conceal that these are owing, not merely to physical and local, but 
also to moral causes. To the political liberty, the general diifosioii 
of knowledge, the prevalence of sound moral and religious principles, 
which give force ami sustained energy to the character of a people ; 
and in fact, have been the acknowled^ and wonderful supporters of 
their <)wii national power and gloiy. 

* For ourselves, therefore, it is comparatively of but little import- 
ance whether England docs us iustice or not : it is, perhaps, of for 
Oiore importance to herself* Sue is instillmg anger and resentment 
into the bosom of a youthAiI nation, to grow with its growth, and 
strengmen with its strength. If in America, as some of her writers 
.are iabtmring to convince her, she is hereafter to find an invidious 
rival, <and a gigantic foe, slie may thahk those very writers for having 
provok^ rivabhip, and irritated hostility. Every one knows the all- 

Influence of literature at the present day, and how much 
f|e ophilQns and |»asrioil9 of mankind are undet its control. The 


Ti€ Skekh Book^ 

mere contests of ^ are temporary; tlielr wouiKj#|ire but ia 

the fleidh, and pride of the generous to forgave 

them ; but the’slaiiders of the pen, pierce to the Jbeaitt tK&y t^wle 
longest in the molest spirits ; they dwell ever present jn ilm 
and rcncler it morbidly sensitive lb t?te most trifling eolJisicm. It is 
but tmldom that any one overt act produces hostilities betvr^O.taro 
nations ; there exists, most commonly, a previous jealosy and i& 
will ; a predisposition to take <^ence« Trace these to dieir eauaat 
and how often will they be found to originate in the mischievous, ef- 
fusions of mercenary writers, who^ secure in theif closets- and 
ignominious bread, concoct and circulate the venom that is^to 
the generous and the brave. * 

‘ I am not laying too much stress upon this point; for itapp||jes 
most emphaticaby to our particular case. Over no nation does 
'press hold a more absolute. control than over the people of Ameri- 
ca ; for the universal education . of the pemrest claves makes eveiy* 
individual a reader. There is nothing piihlisbed in England oi» the 
subject of our country, that docs not circulate through every part of 
it. There is not a caloiuny dropt from an English pen, nor an un- 
worthy sarcasm uttered by an j&iglish statesman, that does pot go to 
blight good will, and add to the mass of latent resentment* Pos- 
sessing, then, as England does, the fountain head from whence the 
literature of the language dows, how completely is it in her power> 
and how truly is it her duty, tp make it the mecuum of amiable arid 
maunanimous feeling— a stream where the two nations might meet 
together, and drink in peace and kindness. Should she, however, 
persist in turning it to waters of bitterness the time may come ^hen 
she may repent her folly. The present friendship of America tnay be 
of hut little moment to her ; but the future destinies of that countiy 
do not admit of a doubt ; over those of Engird tliere lower some 
riradows of uncertainty. Should, then, a day of gloom arrive ; should 
those reverses overtake her, from which tlie proudest empires have 
nig^been exempt ; she may look back with regret ut her infatuation, 
in rc^ul^ing from her side a nation she might have grappled to her 
bo^oin, <pnd thus destroying her only chance Cor real friendship be- 
ycaid the hpimidarics of her own dominions. 

‘ lliere is a general impression in England, that the people of the 
ITnited States are mimical to the parent country. It k one of the 
errors vjhich have been diligently priJpagited by designing writers. 
There is, d^btles^ considerable politick hostility, and a general 
soreness at’ the IQ^Of^lity of the English press ; hut, coHectivefy 
speaking, the prepossessions of the peopm e strongly in fo^bur of 
Kngtod* indeed, at one time they amounted, in many parts of the 
jiLJtboxi, to an absurd degt:^ of bigotry. * The bare name of English** 
man was a passport to tne confidence andho^itality of eveiy 
end too often gave a ^ausient curr^cy to the wdrthtesS Md ^ 
ungrateful. Throughput the coun^ ther^ was Sometliiiig id 
eiasm connected with Urn ide^t of EriglanC ^We looked to ft Wfftl b 


The Sketch Book* 


Imllqwed feeling pf tenderness and veneratien, to tbe Itoid of 
fi^fathei^-^the august repository of the monuments and antiquitiea 
of our race-^e birth-place and roausoleum of the sages and beroto 
of pa^ern^l history. After ouSfdwn country, there was none ill 
whose glory we more delighted — none whose good opinion we were 
more anxious to possess — none toward which our hearts yearned 
witli such throbbings of warn) consanguinity. Even during the late 
war/ whenever there was the least Opportunity for kind feelings to 
spring forth, it was the delight of the generous spirits of our country 
id show that, in the midst of hokiiities, tliey still kept alive the sparks 
^ futurifriendship. 

/ Is all this to be at an end ? Is this golden band of kindred sym- 
pathies, so rare betiyeen nations, to be broken for ever ?— Perhaps it 
IS for the hest-^it may dispel an illusion which might have kept us . 
. in mental vassalage, inteifercd occasionally with our true interei^s; 
and prevented the growth Of proper national pride. But it is hard 
to give up the kindred tie ! and there are feelings dearer than inte- 
rest-closer to the heart than pride — ^that will still make us cast hack 
a look of regret, as we wander farther and farther from the paternal 
roof, and lament the waywardness of the parent, tliat would repel the 
affections of the child* 

^ Shortsighted and injudicious, however, as the conduct of Eng- 
land inay be in this system of aspersion, recrimination on our part 
would be equally ill-judged. I speak not of a prompt and spirited 
vindication of our country, or the keenest castigation of her slander- 
ers— but I allude to a disposition to retaliate in kind, to retort ssl- 
casna atid inspire prejudice, which seems to be spreading widely a- 
tnong our writers. Let us guard particularly against such a temper, 
for ft would double the evil, instead of redressing the wrong. No- 
thing is so easy and htviting as the retort of abuse and sarcasm ; but 
it is a paltry and Unprofitable contest. It is the alternative of a 
morbid mind, fretted into petulance, rather than warmed into indig- 
nation If England is willing to permit the mean jealousies of trade, 
or the rancorous animosities of politics, to deprave the integrity of 
her press, and poison the fountain of public opinion, let us beware of 
her example. She may deem it her interest to defuse error, and en- 
gender antipathy, for the purpose of diecking emigration ; we have 
no purpose of kind to serve. If either have we any spirit of na- 
tional jealousy to gratify ; foi^ as yet^ ia all bur rivalships with Eng- 
land, we are the rising and the gailUng party. There can be no 
to anspter, ther^ore^ but the gratiheation of resentment— a mere 
api^t . of retaliation, and even that is impotent. ^ Our retorts are never 
.republished in England ; they faU sbo^t, tberufoie,, of their aim 
but ^ey foster a q^uerolous and peevish ainong our writers ; 

t^y sour ^e ^weet 0ow of oiir early literature, arc sow thorns and 
brambles among jis blossoms. What is still w^rito, they circulate 
^ough our bwii country, and, 'to far as they have edect, excite 
virulent national prejdUces. Thb fast is the evil most especiaUv to 

The^deh Book^ 



be deprecated. Goveniedi as we are, entirely by public opinion, tfae 
utmost care shoald be taken to preserve the purity of the public 
mind. Knowledge is power, and truth is know ledge ; whoever, there- 
fore, knowingly propagates a prejudice, wilfully saps the foundation 
of Us country's strength. ^ « 

* Kut, above all, let us not be influ^ced by any angry feelings, so 
fiur as to shut our eyes to the perception of what is really excellent 
aad amiable in the English character. We are a young people, ne- 
cessarily an imitative one, and must take our examples and models, 
in a great degree, from the existing nations of Europe. There is no 
country more worthy of our study than England. The spirit of her 
constitution is most analogous to ours. The manners of her people 
*-4heir intellectual activity— -their freedom of opinion — ^their habits 
of thinking on those subjects which concern the clearest interests and 
most sacred diarities of private life, are all congenial to the Ameri* . 
am character— and, in fact, are all intrinsically excellent ; for it is 
in the moral feeling of the people that the deep foundations of Bri- 
tish prosperity are laid; however the superstructure may be 
timc-wom, or overrun by abuses, there must be something solid in 
the basis, admirable in the materials, and stable in the structure of 
an edifice, that so long has towered unshaken amidst the tempests of 
the world. 

* Let it be the pride of our writeis, therefore, discarding all feel* 
ings of irritation, and disdaining to retaliate the Uliberality m British 
authors, to speak of the English nation without prejudice, and with 
determined candour. While they rebuke the indiscriminating bi« 
gotry with which some of our countrymen admire and imitate every 
thing English, merely because it is Englisfa, let them frankly point 
cut wliat is really worthy of approbation. We mi^ thus place Eng- 
land before us as a perpetual volume of refermice, wherein ana re- 
corded sound deductions from ages of experience ; and while we 
ovoid the errors and absurdities whieb may have crept into the page, 
we may draw thence golden maxims of practical wii^om, wherewith 
to strengthen and to embellish our natiow character. ’ pp. 104-1 IG. 

It is consolatory to the genuine friencU of mankind— ^to the 
friends of peace dM liberty and reason— to find such senlimcmts 
gainit]|f ground in the world ; and, above aU, to find them in*> 
cnlcated so much warmth and ability by a writer of that 
country which has had the strongest provocation to disown 
them, and whose support of them is, at w present moment, by 
far the most iitiportent. We have alvoady pledged ouraelvea 
to do what in us lies to promote tfae fsame ^ood musei-HWii if 
Ipur labours are only seconded in America with a portion of the 
9&eal and eloquence which is here employed in their behalf, we 
have Attle doubt of seemg them ultimately crowned with suo 
cess. It is impossible^ however, in the mean tim^ to disguise^ 
that much more depeim upon &e efiKirts of the American writ*^ 

IdSO. T%e S^eh lSoeie. ITS 

eri^llittn tmon ouM;' bo|}i became th<^ have 
weight wim.the party who is chieflv to be conciliateo, liad 
cause their reasonings are not repeiled by that erntrageotui ^itit 
of party wh!i^ leads no small nambers amtmgns, at the presi^ 
momentf to reject and vilify whatever is recommended by thorn 
who are generally opposed to their plans of domestic policy. 
The aq>ect of the times has compefled us . to expose many of 
fhe measures of the party now in power in this country : — and 
the consequence has beeui that tneir baser r^iners make it a 
point of ccmscience to abuse all that we reexHumend^ though no 
way connected with quesdons .of politics or party ; and. we.have 
thus acquired the extraordinary power of making our bitterest 
adversaries say any thing we please — as ofien as we can bring 
.ourselves to say just the contrary. The number of person^ 
however, who are above this miserable influence, and judge for 
themselves upon all general questions, is rapidly increasing in 
onrfamd: and we have no doubt that we shall, every quarter, 
make more tftid more proselytes to all our doctrines that are right 
in themsClvei^ and supported with tempenmee and reastm. 

In justice to the work before us, however, we should say, that 
a very small proportion of its contents relates either to po> 
Utics, or to sul^cts at all connected vrith America. Hiere is 
a * Legend of Sleepy Hollow,’ which is an excellent 
to Rip van 'VViqkle ; and there are two or three other papers, 
thelocalides of which are Transatlantic. But out of the thirty- 
five pieces which the book contains, there are not more than six 
or seven, that have this character. The rest rriate entirely to 
l&igdand; and conristof sketches oS its manimrs, itsscenery, and 
its obaracters, drawn .with a fine and friendly hand— and renuuks 
on its.litorature and peculiariUes, at which it would be difficult 
for any rational creature to be (^fended. As a specimen of the 
manner in which those Sketches me mceeuted, we add the fol- 
lowing account of the auUuw’s virit to a country dburch in an 
aristocrotical part of the tmuntiy. 

'* Ihe ooi^iregatini was conspo^ tS the neighbouring people of 
rank, who sat in pews samptnouriy Ined and eushionea, fumuhed 
with riebW-gil^ prayer book^ and decorated with tbelr'anns upon 
tile pew doors ; of the villagers md peasantry, who filled the bsek 
aeai^.and a sn^l gt^ery beside tiie organ ; of the poor .of the 
who were ranged on brnrimt in tiie aistes. 

. * service was peribnned by a smiffir^, well fed vicar, who had 
* nmg dwriUng near the diuidi. HewM a privileged guest at all 
thetmlesof tSene^d^MNuhood, and hadbeCn the kbCnert fox-hunter 
f«‘the.eptHtty, until and ge^ Bvhig had ffisabled hhn from dring 
any ffimg more ihrii to aee the himds thrdw 0^ and make one 
at the hunting ffibaer. 


T/(^ Sketch Booh 

* l^Ader the ministry of such a pastor, I found it impassible to 

get into of thought suitable to the time and place ; so hav* 

ing, like mapy other feeble Chrtstiaus, compromised irtih my cop* 
science^ by . laying the sia of my own delinquency at another perscm’s 
thresholds I ^tKxupied myself by making observations op my neigh- 

* I was as yet a stranger in England, and curious to notice the 
mmixm of‘ its £»sliionable classes. I ibund, as usual, that thi re was 

least pretension where there was the most acknowledged title to 
roi^ect. I was particularly struck, for instance, with the family of 
a nobleman of high rank, consisting of several sons and [lau^tera. 
Nt^ing could be more simple and unassuming than their appearance. 
They generally came to church in the plainest equipage, and often 
on ^ot. The j^oung ladies would stop and converse, in the kindest 
manner, with the peasantry, caress the children, and listen to the, 
stories of the humble cottagers. Their countenances were open 
and beautifully fair, with an expression of high rehaement, but, at 
the same time a frank cheerfulness, and an engaging 4|ffability. 
Their brothers were tall, and elegantly formed. They were dress^ 
fai^hioitably, but simply ; with strict neatness and propriety, but with- 
out any mannerism or foppishness. Their whole demeanour was easy 
and natural, with that lofty grace,, and noble frankness, which be- 
speak free-born souls that have never been checked in their growth 
by feelings of inferiority. There is a healtliful hardiness about real 
dignity, that never dreads contact and communion with others, how- 
ever humble. It is only spurious pride that is morbid and sensitive, 
and shrinks from every touch* 1 was pleased to see . the manner in 
which they would converse with the peasantry about those rural con- 
cerns and field worts, in which the gentlemen of tins country so 
much defight. In these conversations, there was nmtber haughtiness 
oa^^otiesmt, nor servility on the . others , and you, were only ret- 
minded of the differenoe of rank by ibe batniaal respect of* the peasant. 

* In ooiM^ast/to these, was the famijy of .a wealthy ckiaen, who 

had amassed a vast fortune; and, having purchased the estate and 
laanAon of e.ruiued ncdiletuan in the, neighbourhood, was.eodeayour- 
ing to assume all the style and dignity 4 ^' an hereditary iord of the 
soil* The flimity to chur^ They were roll- 

ed ntp}esticai|y along in a carriage eml^aoned with arms. The 01 ^ 
giittetod4p^yor;radiance from part of tlie harness whei^ .a 
crest coufd; pois^jy be placed- A fat coachman in a three^-corneri^ 
hat, richly round his rosy fiice^ 

waa seated on the a i}^oisb ,4jbg beside higi- Two 

footmen in gorg^ouai&erioa^'Wit^ and gold-headed^ 

cm^» JoSied behind, thepcauriage lo^ gind jna^k onits long spring* 
with : stateliness of potion. .The p^/l^ses cham^ 

bitSr pch^ their necks,^ asp ghmced M more proudly than 

common horses ; either heM|ig they had got a httJe of Uie faadiy 
fepling, or were reined up mare tighdy tbm ordinary. 

J%e Bkettk Booh 


‘ I ciMild not but Odittife the style whM whicli this splmidtd p£^eant 
was brought up to the gate of the churchyard. There was a vast 
effort produecA at die turning of an angle of the walU A great 
'cracking of the whip $ straining and serariibiing of the horses; glia* 
tening of haijiess, and dashing of wheels through gravel. This was 
• the moment of triumph and vain- glory to the coachman, The horses 
were urged and checked until they were fretted into a foam. They 
tlirew out their feet in a prancing trot, dashing about pebbles at every 
step. The crowd of villagers sauntering quietly to church, opened 
precipitately to the right and left, gaping in vacant admiration. On 
reaching t^e gate, the horses were pulled up with a suddenness that 
produced an immediate stop, and almost threvr tliem on their haunches. 

^ There was an extraordinary hurry of the foottnen to alight, open 
the door, pull down the steps, and prep.\re everything for the de- 
scent on earth of this august family. The old citizen first emerged 
his round red face from out the door, looking about him with the 
pompous air of a man accustomed to rale on 'change, and shake the 
stock market with a nod. ’ &c. p. ^202-207. 

^ As 1 have brought these families into contrast, I must notice 
their behaviour in church. That of the nobleman’s family was quieti 
serious, and attentive. Not that they appeared to have any fervour 
of devotion, but rather a respect for sacred things, aud sacr^ places^ 
inseparable from good breeding. The others, on the contrary, were 
in a perpetual flutter and whisper ; they bctr»'iyed a continual con- 
sciousness of finery, and a sorry ambition of being the wonders of 
a rural] congregation. 

‘ The old gentleman was the only one really attentive to the ser- 
vice. He took the whole burden of family devotion upon himself, 
standing bolt upright, and uttering the responses with a loud voice 
that might be heard all over the church. It was evident that he was 
one of those thorough church and king men, w ho connect . the idea 
of devotion and loyalty ; who consider the deity, somehow or other, 
of the government party, and religion “ ^ very excellent sort of thing, 
that ought to be countenanced and kept up. ” 

* When he joined so loudly in the service, it seemed more by way 
of example to tlie lower orders, idj^how them tliat, though so great 
and wealthy, he was not above being religious; a$ I have seen a 
turtk-fed alderman swallow publicly a basin of charity soup, smack- 
ing iflsli|is at eveiy moudiful, add prononnciiig it ^ ^celicnt food 
for Ihep^or.’* ' * 

^ Wheh the service was al ;im end, ! was curious to Witness the 
seveimi e^its of my grbupk. The young mddemen artd their sisters, 
gs ^flie day was fine, prefiwved stldHhig home across the fieids, chat- 
ttAjg with the people as wmit. , The others departed as 

'dfeey in grand pm^ade. Again weie the equipages wheeled up 
to the gate* Theiw vm again w saw of whips, the clattering 
of iioofli, and the Idlttering ofhiaciess. ' The horses started oH' al- 
most at a bound ; !&e viila^s again bw'ncd to right aud left ; the 

Thi Sketch Book. 



wheels op^ a clouds of dust; and the aspiring family was rapt 
out of sight in a wIMwind. ’ pp. £10-212. 

There are many better things than thi« in these volumes^ but 
they are tM easily extracrted ; and we believe that we have now 
done evibiig^ for the courteous and ingenious strangjsr whom we 
are mri^ous of introducing to the notice of our readers. It is 
probable, indeed, that many of them have become acquainted 
Vt^ith him already ; as we have found the book in the hands of 
most of those to whom wo have thought of mentioning it, and 
<d)scrve that the author, in the close of his last volume, speaks 
in very grateful terms of the encouragement he has^rcceived. 
We orehcartily glad of it, both for liis sake and for that of li- 
terature in generm. There is a great deal too much contention 
and acrimony in most modem publications ; and because it has 
unfortunately been found impossible to discuss practical ques- 
tions of great interest without some degree of neat and pe)i^ 
sonality, it has become too much the prevailing opinion, th^ 
these are necessary accompaniments to all powcmil cw energetic 
discussion, and tnat no work is likely to be well received by 
the public, or to make a strong impression, which does not 
bound in them. The success of such a work as this before us, 
may tend to correct this prejudice, and teach our auUiors that 

G tleness and amenity arc qualities quite as attractive as vio- 
^ and impertinence ; and that truth is not less weighty, nor 
reason less persuasive, although not ushered in by exaggerations, 
and backed by defiance* 

I.AUG— Bqsrw Magni legitm rffbmatorh leges Gulathingemes^ 
sive Jm Commune Nofvegicufn. Havnim, 1817. 

A mongst the Scandinavians, the pristine simplicily of the ju- 
risprudence of their forefathers long continued pure and 
unsiiUiedL VsiHcas causes protected the sinceriQr of their Oo- 
tbmemmon law, which, even in ihe sixteenth ccntuiy, was en- 
circled by the landmarks which bad bounded it in ^ days of 
Hrgber ibe Wise, and Magnus the Bjeforipar* No ruler sprung 
jfofnu ssnotfaer.raee wee ever seated on tbe thrones of the Nortli- 
len kifigdoms* iJneasailed and uneoeH^ered by the forever, 
4hMhrimrs wesodboiv^^ quarreb^of bredureh who wasted 
lAejr t0mmm cammy- The land wHs spelled, yet sdll it le- 
UMiibnS froo from oalrBiieous deminian ; and the laws were 
tmoedtiitod from age to age, ecMallyMiin by power, and 
by ieamfog. S 

]S90» Ancient Lam of ihe Scandinavians* 17T 

Feudality never expanded beyoi^ the germ. iiattyse 

institutions common to all the Gothic tribes, bore bui^a jdight 
aiSBnity to t£e military tenures and relations created by 
tient duties of fidelity, protection and defence in the territQt^ 
of die Empire, France and England, where the retainers of the 
chieftain gave way to the vassals of the baron. The Northmen 
were originally strangers to the Feudal jurisdictions, and to tl^ 
rules and principles emanating from the feudal tribunals, whi<h 
incorporated themselves with the entire system of civil and cri- 
minal legislation of those countries where they prevailed* 
Neither did the Imperial law or the Canon law acquire any 
preponderating authority. Whilst the judges of Upsala prq- 
nounced the doom which had been taught W Odin and the 
Asi, they disregarded the Decretals ancTthe Irandects* Com- 
pared with the jurisprudence prevailing in the rest of Go- 
thic Europe, the total rejection of the written reason derived 
6rom Rome or Constantinople, constitutes a peculiar charac- 
teristick of the Scandinavian laws* Elsewhere, the codes of 
the PondiF and the Cssar had been introduced or sustained by 
the efforts of the Roman clergy ; but the Scandinavians were 
the last of the Gothic nations who received the tidii^s of Chris- 
tianity; and though they embraced its doctrines wim sincerity, 
imd held the orthodox creed with puri^, yet the hierarchy n^ 
Ver became so deeply engrafted in the Northern commonwealth, 
as in the other countries of Christendom* Church and state 
were imperfectly wedded ; and the mystic union which, in a li- 
mited monarchy, is one of the most efficient and salutaiy of 
the elements of public welfare, failed to acquire its needful nar- 
mony* Adam of Bremen, an author justly termed the Hero- 
dotus of die North, wrote at a period when Christiani^ was 
winning its way into Scandinavia ; and he has described the ec- 
clesiastical government of these Neophyte realms. The bishops 
of Norway, Denmark, and Sweden, had no distinct sees or in- 
dividual endowments; all the diepherds tended all the flocks : 
their lives were employed in jourxi^ing throi^R the regions as- 
Mgn^to their care, in strengthening me belief of the mitering 
<mri8daii, and in reclaiming the erring Pagan from the adoira- 
tion ^f ^ Gods of slaughter*^. ^ . 

ln.prpcess of 4ime^ dds pnmitiiM vijplaiice decayed, and 
i^posto^c^ poi^ilty of the Juerm^ succeeded by a more 

imd Mtraedve organisation* The Prelate was enthron- 
. ed ^ Qnire, and the canons were instidled around him ; 

Jthe derm ^ not obtainany possemons of unseemly mag-i 
* m their power ov^rmimow the laity, as in climates 

. which were less remote from £^tP(^ei^s diair. SaparamoaHt 

rQL.xxxiy« NO. $7. M 

tiS Aneient Lrtm o/* the ScmidiwavUms. Aug. 

'was the influence of tlie national character, that even the ec- 
clesiastical courts conformed in many respects to the coarse of 
die common law, not only in their principles of jurisprudence, 
blit in their 1^1 forms, which, in the opinion of the law- 
yer, are oftener or greater consequence than ehhei* princ^les 
or doctrine. The churchmen who were obedient to the com- 
mon law, in the Court Christian could not gain the maste^ in 
the secular tribunals, where the judicial power was derived from 
the nation, not from the sovereign. He law was the tradition 
of the old time. The unlettered husbandmen assembled on the 
jury, which declared the truth, or uttered the sentence. Nei- 
ther roll nor record authenticated their judgment or their ver- 
dict ; and the unwritten pleadings received no assistance from 
the cunning of the clerk, who was seldom required to assist, 
and never empowered to preside^ 

Administered by the people themselves, the law did not be- 
come the occupation of a distinct profession, and was never 
exalted into the dignity of n science, which, assisting or per- 
«pl)exing the humble suitor, advances the student and the sage 
^fr>raiMts ^and opulence, and honour. They had no erminc!d 
^ judges ^ no sergeants of the quoif, no advocates, no senators. 
^"(Phfere were men who were soundly versed in their old patri- 
"‘nrnni^ customs and usages; but they practised the laws as pub- 
lic characters who availed themsefves of every talent which 
could bestow preeminence in a popular assembly, yet were 
not seve^^from the body of the nation by their pursuits. It 
was in IKmk. that the law spake, not in Latin. Unadorned 
by forewRc cultivation, the Gothic law received no ameliora- 
tion from cultivated talent. Whilst time passed on, it sofourned 
in its old rude cunning and capricious equity. But, lifee all o- 
*1iher human institutions, it was dej^rned to decay. Tlierefor- 
Clarion of religion, tlie partial introdlictran of the most odious 
li©f**chet!eiTitiHles imposed 1)y Uie feudal system, the changes 
tafiicb were sustyined'*’ by the Scandinavian constitutions under 
fcdbg inpre8siDg*'pbwer of the erowti and of die aristocracy, 
^Odif^and rnidenniiietl the venerable fabric. Political storms 
^hStodhr indnci^isome aW in the tenure of property. 

Indiimeint actions are consid^^d as criities, and crimes are 
repressed with increasing severity. 'When the Dane acquir- 
ed tlie powers of the autocrat, and the Swede was declared 
t6be an bereditaify monarch, the wlirie system of law and jus- 
tice was reBiodelled. The institittiotti^wh&h had sprung from a 
popular form of government, decKnltfd with warnirg frMom,, 
until at length their value and exceHei^ expired in the iEearfiil^ 
struggle between tdigarefay and de^oUsm. 



Ancient LefliiS of fke Scandtnaviant^ 

Tlic oarlicst point from which we can trace the proj2fre» of 
Scandinavian law with any degree oi‘ precision, is much 
than the corresponding era in the history c'f the other * Bafr- 
baric* codo<«# Kngland seems to have given an impulse to 
the jurispi^dence of Norway. Atheli^tane, the Lord of 
the giver ol golden bracelets, the most brilliant of the Saxcii 
warriors, is seen, in some njcasure, both as a ronnuitic mo- 
ziarcb 5 and ns a mythic legislator: our ancient poetical cliar* 
tcTs are ascribed to him ; arid he also is quoted us the grantor 
in other ^documetits, which we would receive as genuine, if we 
dared, but whiclu we fear, must be vouched only as coiistilu- 
tional fictions. J\)pular gratitude magnified the meed of the 
conqueror, by seeking to ascribe tne franchise of the burghs 
to tne sovereign whose sword hud protected his subjects from 
the invader. IIaco, the fosler^son of Athelstanc, was educated 
in the Hall of the English King, and perhaps profited by the 
example of the successors of Ina; lor he is the fust authentic 
legislator in the annals of Norway. 

Four supreme tribimaJs had been established in the country^ 
it being divided into as many jurisdictions ; and the four codca 
which were promulgated by Haco, * the ^dsitiathxnoslauo 
— the Gulathjnoslauo — the FnosTATHiNG6LAUo,~and the 
Bougarthtngslaug, obtained their names from* the diocesai 
in which they were respectively enforced; but as they mere- 
ly differ from each ether iu arrangement, and in some few 
regulations adapted to cemstitution of the courts of each 
district, they may be considered as forming only one col- 
lection of customs and statutes. I'lie code of the pagan 
Haco was modified by Ojlavjl, the sainted King of Noway, 
who directed the abrogation of such laws as were hostile to 
the milder spirit of Oiirislianity. These statute book<« and 
laws were enacted in a meetifig of the nation; and the legb^ 
lators speak in the name of die People, and admonish thcot 
that ® such is the beginning of mtr law. — We must turn our 
^ faces towards the east, and pray unto Christ tp grant Hi 
‘ good tide and peace, that may keep our land without tra- 
< vail ; and our King, the Lord of our land, with health and 
* graces may he be our friend ; and may wa be his friend iat evet- 
« more. ’ Magnus the Good, OiiAVu the Peaceable, and Mao- 
Nvs Erlingsen, iocorporated yarious laws which had recdT- 
ed their assent in the codes of Haco and Saint .Olave; and 
the older text probably experienced a silent revision^ ^ In the 
reigu of Magnus the eon of Haco, > the Norwegiani required 


• AIi4ii»‘94Q. • 


Jnctent Laws nf the icandinaoiam. Aug. 

that their codes should be again modified. The new digest was 
accomplished under the auspiees of the King, who thence ac- 

a uired the epithet of Lagahoetir^ or the amender or reformer of 
le law. The code concludes with the following recital of its 
enactment, which is well worthy of attention — * King Magnus 
* collected together out of all the b(x>ks in the land the Taws 
** which he thought to be the best, with the advice of the best 
* men, and he caused this book to be written. Then did he 
* appear himself in the fblk«moot of Guloe, and caused it to be 
• read aloud. - - Should it appenr to any 

* one of his lawful successors dtat this book needs amendment, 
< then let him alter it so as to promote the honour of God, the 
* salvation of his own soul, and the welfare of his people. - - 
< • - - This book was taken as law in the Shire Courts of Gu- 
* loe on the eve of Saint John, when one thousand two hundred 
* and seventy-four winters had gone by since the birth of our 
^ I^rd Jesus" Christ, and in the eleventh year of the reign of 
* King Magnus.’ 

In the corrected Gulathingslaug, the laws are classed with 

S renter order, and expressed witib greater clearness. The 
arshness and severity of the jurisprudence of Haco Athelstane, 
yielded in many instances to the good sense of Magnus and his 
counsellors; and, at the same time, due care was taken that 
tlie rights and privileges of the ^rown should be defined with 
a degree of care and accuracy, which had been considered as 
unnecessary in the days of the earlier monarchs. ** No farther 
alteration took place in the Norwegian law, until the final sub- 
jection of the country. 

Iceland, while independent, was first governed by the laws and 
usages which bad prevailed amoi^st the Norwegian colonists at 
the period of their emigration. These, when the island became 
fully settled, were collected in Hunting by Ulfliott, some time 
'in tne tenth century; but the name alone of * Ulfliott’d law’ 

* This code is published, for the first time, in the original lam 
guage, (together with Danish and Latin versions), in the volume no- 
ticed at the head of this article. An * index vocum rariorum ’ con- 
tains many terms of law not to be found in Hulderson's Icelandic 

Lexicon, and adds much to the vfdoe of the work. The text of the 
code is given with critical fidelity ; but the learned editors, the trus- 
tees of the foundation of Arnas Magneus, have not added any ex- 
ffonatory notes. It is understood Hm the Swedes also inUmd to give 
nm aNfitions of dietr laws, under the patronage of the Ku^. At 
present they ore only to be found in the rare editions which ap-'' 
peared in the seventeenth centuzy ; and as they there are given with- 
out any venaaoi thi^ cannot be confulted with &cUity« 

Ancieni Zmds the Scandiniroians* 


has been preserred^ Gudmund, the judge, complied the code 
called Gragas, or ‘ gray goose, * between the years 1 
The volume r^eived its popular denomination from the colour 
of its binding, like the black book and the red book of our Ex- 
chequer, and the black and red Becerros, or muniment boc^s 
in the cathedral of Oviedo^ This code, in which the forms of 
process are treated at great length, has never been printed ; but 
a copy of it is amongst the manuscripts of Sir Hans Sloane w 
the British Museum. 

After^the island was annexed to the kingdom of Norway, 
Haco the son of Haco introduced the Gulsithingslaug, which 
the Icelanders considered to be so rigorous, that they termed 
it larnsida, or Ironside; and it continued in force until Mag- 
nus Laga-ba?tir became dosirous of transmitting his amend- 
ed code to this distant part of his dominions, but with such 
terations as might adapt it to the state of society and property 
in the island. John Einarson, a celebrated Icelandic judge, was 
entrusted with this important task, which was accomplished 
towards the latter part of the thirteenth century, but not dll 
after the death of die Norwegian monarch. * 

Another class in the laws of Scandinavia, is formed by the 
code^ of the provinces which were ruled by the Kings of Upsala, 
or of the Swedes: Uplandzlagh, or the law of Upland, had 
«t]ie greatest reputation and authority. It w’^as edited a. n. 1295, 
in the reign of King Byiigiier, and under the presidency of 
Byrgher the Wise, the justiciar or laghman of the province, and 
who is known in hagiology as the father of Saint Bridget. 

Gothlands law ’ exists in a text of an uncertain, but remote, 
'date. The dialect in Which this code is w^ritten, is very singular 
and archaic: Appended to the law^s, are some historical 
and fragments, which vouch the antiquity of the collection. The 
laws of West Gothland do not preserve the name of the king 
by whom diey were sanctioned ; but the book of laws of Ea^t 
Gothland was revised and reformed in tlie years 1168 and 
possessed their ^ law books ’ in their present shape, in the 
,13th and i4th centuries, — a period in w^hich most of the prin- 

* The last edition of the Code bears the following title. Log- 

* hok hlendivga hvoria saman h^r sett Magnus Norregs Kertgur 

* \L(^grar Miningar) Prentud ad Niju a fiooltwi — Anno 1709.’ 
Hooiuin, within the Polar Circle, is the very ultima Thule of typo- 
graphy. The types employed in this volume appear to be those which 
were first brought to the island by Bishop Tliorlakson in 1584- Dr 
Henderson 1ms detailed the history of Icelandic printing io an Ap- 
pendix to his JoLraal. 

cipal codes seem to have been arranged and edited* 

! provinces being united under one monarch, tlie Swedish 
ators attempt^ a union their custumals ; and a general 
or digest of the laws of all the provinces, of which the law of 
Upland, however, forms the basis, was eflFected at the diet held 
at Orebro, under king Magnus, in 1 347. Few of the provin- 
ces, however, were willing to adopt the * Landzlagh, ’ or ♦ law 
pf the land, ’ in abrogation of their local codes. These differ 
so little from each other^ that the opposition maintained by the 
Landzlagh, can only have been occasioned by the spirit of re- 
sistance which always prompts the component parts of a mo- 
narchy to insist upon their peculiar rights and customs, however 
unprofitable, and which may be considered as a laudable folly. 
The liOndzlagh^ therefore, continued a dead letter : nor did it 
jbccmiie law in practice until it was again promulgated, nearly 
{ptflMitiiry af^wards, by king Christopher the Bavarian. This 
Dopious code it of great use in elucidating the sources from 
irhence it it derived, faeingoiost frequently a glossed paraphrase 
fif the older texts. 

The ancient legal usages of the Jutes are preserved in the 
Jydskk Lovboo, which was compiled under Walde^iae the 
Danish king, and accepted by the parliament of Jutland in 
15^80. A diligent study of this code, together with the other 
custumals of die Ciiuoric Uhersonesus, and of Transalbinic, 

would throw great light upon the principles of the English law> 
particularly with relation to the history of trial by Jury. 

King Canute is supposed to have decreed bis ^ Witheh- 
LAGi^RET ’ in England. This aulic an4 Military code exists on- 
ly m IRFO abridgements; one inserted ih the text of Snx6 Gram- 
ifmtkmi the other comprised in the antient Danish translation of 
Awiihishop Absalom* Other of the laws and ordinances of the 
PlliiHifii are ascribed to obscure, pejliaps to fabulous, legislators. 

Tiufveskegg, for instance, is said to have first enacted, 
that the daughter should share with her brother in the inheri- 
Ifuice: and, with this boon, he rewarded female generosity. 
The Sclavoiiian monarch demanded of the Danes, that they 
should release their King, by paying his weight in gold, and 
twice his weight in silver. The stock of the more precious me- 
tal WAS exhapsted, and the Danes despaired lest Sveno sbpuld 
finger in lifelong captivity. But, when thus lamenting, tfie 
lhatrons of Denmark cast their earrings and broaches in the 
acale, and completed the king's ransom* t '^his supposed edict 

Xn qua fortuna? videntia Sveno virifi defectus auxilio, fiemineam 
expertiis eat : nam cum exhaustis regnl opibus, ne aurum qmdem re- 
demptiom ejus suppetere vicleratur tanta ei matronal^ 

1AM. Jmimt Lam ^flhc Scataiiwmam. MS 

been miicli discussed by the learned of the ^ortb; and not 
without reference to the laws of inheritance amongst die Jews 
m4 the G^tile% the Chaldeans and the Arabs, the Greeks 
and the fiLomans. The unlearned will be more willing to con- 
sider it as {k romantic fanciful talc, which Saxo probably borrow- 
ed from some Saga. The early history of die laws of all na- 
tions abounds in fables: they pass into it from mythology, 
and from mydiological romance; because the first legislator is 
usually a deified hercu Odin was naturally considered as the 
founder of Northern jurisprudence. We are told, in the 
Yngliugli Saga, that jhie set such laws in the land, as before 
wore ^ in use amongst the Asi ; * and throughout * all Swedland, 
^ the people paid unto Odin a scotpenn^ for each nos^e. ’ * So 
long have taxation and legislation been inseparable ! 

We must emerge from the darkness of fabulous antiquity 
and reject these talcs. And yet, after allowing for the w 
duence of Christianity, and the> tardy progress of civilizi^iA 
the existing 4 >odGS perhaps reveal the ]^>e^liar institutions 
Goths f at the dawn of history. Fragments of these lawf 
have been transmitted almost irom the ages of the Asi : wrililfr 
was probably known to the Goths before they advanced beyond 
the Euxine. Ulphila certainly modelled his characters of silver 
from the alphabet of the Byzantine scribes. Yet the magio runes 
were coeval with the alphabets of Celtiberia and Etruria. Like 
the Ogham and Cymbric afohabets, the angular forms of the 
Runic characters indicate that they were graven letters ; and, 
iu conformity to tlie usages of other ancient nations, tablets of 
wood received the signs. Thus, King Fengo addressed the 
English king by an epistle cut on a wooden tablet. Poetry was 
usually inscribe upon small quadrangular staves, whtek 
conveniently adapted for the reception of a verse or^MiMf; 
each face containing a line. Amonj^t U^, therefore/*iluMAc 
and a stave are still synonymous. ^less signiftcaMf^#fiEi 
hoary are tlie designations of the books wd chapters iiltd Vrlitth 

affuity ut dctractis aurium insignibus, caeteroque cultu, certatim di- 
gestam pondere summam explerent, plus oommodi in sdute principis, 
quam amoeoitatis in ornanusutorum suorum. 

♦ * I7m aUa Svithiod guUdu menn Odni shaft penning fynx ttef 
hverU^—Thc Latin translators have, absurdly and un&ithfi^y, con- 
verted the nose tax into a capitatioa tax. 

f We shall not enter into any controversy respecting the true ap- 
propriation or etymology of this appellation, which has created so 
much learned ire ; but content ourselves with remarking, that we use 
it, in a general sense, to denote the entire genus, of which the Teu- 
tons, the Belgians, and those who afterwards became ScandinavU 
aas, oie species. 

IM Jncieni iMm qf the Scandinavians^ Avtg^ 

the Swedish and Norwegian codes arc divided. Each book is 
considered as n^alk or Beam\ a title which would scarcely 
have been ^ven after parchment became in common use : and 
each Balk is subdivided into fiokkur^ that is to say, into fiakes^ 
planks^ or tablets. Thus, probably, were the laws engraved 
which Ulfliott brought over into Iceland. It is also worthy of 
remark, that the only manuscript written in Runic characters, 
and wholly free from suspicion, is a codex of the laws of Sea- 
nia^ referred by Suhm to the thirteenth century. Lawyers al- 
ways affect to shroud themselves in antiquity and unintelligibU 
lity ; and the transcriber was probably instructed to eidploy the 
alphabet of the Asi, for the same reason that acts of Parliament 
were printed in the black letter, long after that awful type had 
been banished from all other publications. 

In maintaining the substantial antiquity of the Scandinavian 
laws, an argument may be drawn from the consent of all the va- 
rious codes and custumals, which agree with each other in every 
material principle, and in most of the minor details. Sticrn- 
hook compares the Swedish custom als to the Naiads of Ovid— 
Facies non omnibus una^ 

Nec diversa tamen^ qualem decet esse sororum. 

And this quotation may be applied to all the other laus of Scan- 
dinavia. Their mutual affinity proves their descent from a 
common source; and as the septs and tribes which retained 
these laws were severed and hostile before the beginning of the 
first chapters of their history, this source must have existed at 
a perioa anterior to their separation. Other internal proofs of 
their antiquity may be briefly indicated. In a former Essay, 
we noticed the versification of the ancient Teutonic laws, by 
which the precepts and maxims of the legislators were impress- 
ed upon the mcmoiy of the people. Now, the authentic legal 
forms of the Scandinavians abound with fragments of allitera- 
tive verse, and their language is singularly poetical and flgura^ 
tive. Legal memory extended to the age of Paganism. If the 
inhabitants of a township In West Gothland claimed a pre- 
scriptive right to common land, they were to bring proof by 
the oaths of two men chosen out of two juries, that the town- 
land had been cultivated in the heathen time. * The West 
Ooths expressly deduced the series of their judges from the 
j|ke-christian ora ; and the two first * lawmen ’ of the country 
are stated to have been buried as heathens beneath the cairn, f 
Jbi the same manner, the preface to the laws of Upland ascribe^ 

^ Such a township was called hogabyr. Ihre, in voce Hedenhos. 
f The brief chronicle of Biorn KiaUci, the second ^ lawman * of 
West Gothland, is given with so much peculiarity, that we can 
scarcely suspect a falsehood in the writer. He was from Medhalby ; 

IsaOv Ancimt Lam the 163 

the collectron to ^ lawman, * * a heathen in the h€fa^€ll4^^ ^ 
who was sent as ambassador the king of the 
heroic Invalid* 

From this half-civilized state of society, were derived 

* visible signs which, * if we may borrow the words of Gibb^^ 

* imperfectly supply the want of letters, and perpetuate tW 

* remembrance of any public or private transaction. ' Long 
after the laws themselves were cinnmitted to writing, the art 
was rejeeted in the proceedings which originated out of the 
|irece]:>t8 and maxims of these laws. When the shire-mote was 
to be coftveaed, the summoning symbol was borne by the weary 
husbandman, from dwelling to dwelling, over moor and wild; 
and be was heavily fined if he failed to perform this public duty. 
The hieroglyphical token was varied in its form, according to 
its intent. An atrow called the people to sit in judgement up- 
on the murderer, or told them that the land was berried by 
the enemy. War was signified by the cross of the Gael ; 
but in Scandinavia, the cross indicated that the precepts of the 
Church had been violated, and that the transgressors against 
the * Kristendoms bolkr ’ were to appear before the court. Au 
axe^ or perhaps a staffs indicated that the tribunal would as- 
semble merely in its usual course, and for the transaction of 
its ordinary business. Kindred customs may yet be faintly 
traced in Imgland. There are manors where the tenants who 
have been presented as cozistables and titbing-men, are sum- 
moned, ‘ sitting the court, ’ by the delivery of the uoand which 
is carried to their houses by the bailiff. Until the middle of 
the last century, the peace of the township of Chart was pre- 
iserved by the dumb-borseholder: And this wooden magistrate, 
who discharged his duty as efliciently as many other country 
justices, was probably a Scandinavian summoning-token in hu 

The same symbol which warned the freeholders to attend the 
court, summoned the defendant to appear before them. Regu- 
lations are prescribed, by the Scandinavian jurisprudence, for 
the institution of the process, which display the provident dili- 

and there he was buried beneath a '’hillock, * because he knew not 

* holy Christ ; and upon that satpe hillock stands the clock-house wHl&i 

* is now in Medhalby. ^ This passage should find a place in the his- 

* tory of inventions. The clock in the clock-house built at Westmin- 
ster in mss by Justice Hengham^an ominous name for a judge— » 
is usoally cofistdered as the earliest recorded instance of a iVamon- 
tane Olo^: but it should seem thai^ the machhie of Dondi had tra- 
velled nfdith before the middle of the thirteenth century. The 
f ' of Mcdhclby may, however, have been only a hell- 

^mer. • * ' ' ... 


Aacieni liam qf fke Scandinsmam* 


gence of the lawgiy«r^ equalljr^soliciiouti to prevent delay, 
to avoid injiistieei; Acoompanieid by the delivery of tlie arrcw 
or the ax^ tlie verbal citation was to be repeated by two free- 
holders, the f etefnovittii^ ’ or witnesses of the suminous; and 
they were afterwards to swear, with uplifted hands, that they 
liad duly declared tlxeir errand^ 

Corresponding wkh these stefiiavUni, were tlie ^ good sum* 
vnoners, * by wham tlie English Sheriff was directed to warn 
the to appear in real actions ; and an j^nalogous ofiice 

was assigned to the knights who witnessed jJiat the Baron had 
lueen duTv cited by the &iiliff or the Viscount* according to 
custom of Normandy* f In th^sp instances, may observe how 
the usages of an earlier period of iurisprudence were strictly 
retained in the process erxiployecl by succeeding generations, 
when aU i^ollection of the foundation of the law was obliterated 
A'om libe memory of the lawyer. 

Much practical ability is displayed by the Norwegian law^s 
in the definkiofi of the legal domicile of the defendant wheve- 
m it was presumed tliat the citation would fairly come to his 
knowledge, tliough he might persemally avoid the presence of the 
unwelcome messengers. — The domicile of the hind was to be 
sought in the cottage where he had sojourned for a fortnight and 
a day during llie hay harvest. — The fisherman was summoned 
on the shore where his boat had lain during the fishing season. 
—A seanuMi who slept on board his vessel was summoned gt 
his moorings^^If a priest had no certain place of habitation 
the summoners proceeded to tlie house of any one of the ixr^ 
habitants of the parish wherein he bad last performed divine 
service, for all might equally be supposed to have afforded ho«H 
pitality to the holy inan«~If a freeholder quitted the country^ 
he was to appoint a known agent, or * umbodsmadr, * on his 
1l>ehalf, who was to represent him during his absence; and if he 
l^ed to, do so, then It Was sulHcient to serve the process upon 
heir. — Individuals, however, might be found, to whom 
wneof" the foregoing regulations could apply; this case was 
also foreseen, by King Magnus. — ‘ Perhaps, * says the l^slar 
tor, , ^ thou mayest intend to sue a man who hath newly come 
injbo dm .township, who h^tli no heir, and who hath settled 
« ainoc last Christmas Eye;’ — simh a person was to be asked 
dare bis domicile* If he named his place of residenoi^ 

f 1/ee d(Hbt s<;avdlr que les Baroot doibyent estre semeu^ par le 
Eailly^ oi» par le Viconte* ou par le maiiw lergent pardev^t q^re 
iChevallera lui meins, qut puissent porter iesmeign^e de lasemoniie; 
"W s^ilk defoiilent ilz ne dofovent pas estre mesnez a ladesr^. Aina 
d&bt la semoase ^tre recor^ w le temoiguage de eeida qui 7 
fitreuL — Ls Grand Cousiumier, Chap. LXI. ^ ^ 

lBf9* Anckni ^ ihe Scandimvians^^ 187 

die pl^e where wisfa^ to receive process, it Ih^ 

he was not |diowed to name the bouse oF an Earl for the lattec! 
purpose, unless he really dwelt there, lest his powerful host} 
might scare the bearers of the summons. But perhaps he 
refuse to answer the question,— and in that case the plaintiff mm 
authorized to publish the summons at any house within the town* 
ship which he thought best and this citation was to be held as 
confessed by the deiendant* These regulations may moderate 
our current ideas respecting the rudeness and barbarity of the 
Northmen. When tlie absent debtor is charged on the pier and 
shore oA.oith, the officer of justice now performs an unmeaning 
ceremony ; but the publication of the Norwi^an citation was 
suited to the state of society, and perfectly well adapted to its 

Equal precision was required in the publication of the legal 
forms of the 8candliiavians. — The count, plaint, or appeal, pre* 
fcrrcd before the court; the betrothing of the maiden; the le- 
gitimation of the child born of an unwedded molber; the grant 
of freedom to the thrall ; in ahoit, every act by which property 
was transferred, or civil rights acquired or created, which con- 
stituted a stage in the suit, or was connected with its process, 
required to be enounced in the phraseology, and accompanied 
by the rites which immemorial tradition had prescribed. * With 

' ♦ Many of the Saxon oaths and forms have been collected by 
Turner, who has left but a scanty gleaning for the industry of future 
liwtoi'iaas. The Saxon appeals may be consulted in the Mirror of 
Justices. Andrew Horne, sometime citizen, iishmpnger, and town* 
clerk of London, seems to liavc compiled this treatise from the An- 
glpu^axon Doom<book, anciently preserved amongst the archives of 
the ^city, and to wliich, in his official capacity, he had ready access. 
Ilie Liber Horne, a collectiou of legal matters which he formed for 
his own use, and which is still extant, bespeaks his' industry and re- 
search ; and a glossary of Anglo-Saxon law terms, contained in it, 
proves his acquaintance with that language. Gurth’s manumissioh 
is familiar to all our readers ; but a friend well conversant with these 
matters, observes— ‘ I fear there is no better authority for this for- 

* mu!a of emancipation, than for the exploits of ivanhoe at Ashby 
^ de la Zouche. Many records of Emancipation are found in Hickes's 

* DisserftiSio Epistolaris^ and at the end of his Dictionary ; but none 

* resembling this formula, except in: the words^/rse and saeZess, which 

• ^ occur in some of thep), and in and not of /ov^, which are to 

^ be found in oUiera. . In4€ed,) L am idVaid that Gurtb’s emanclpa- 

* uon was good for nothing, according, to Augio-Nonnan law. It 

* was not granted In the presence of the Sheriif, nor in the county 

* court ; nor were the spear and the sword* the aims of a froemu, 

* put iolo his iumds by bis master, os symbols of his delivery from 
i servitude. * 

Ancient La\B8 tie Scandinavians^ Aug* 

{be nicety sdll chftracterizes the English law, the variance 
of a word, lapse of a syllable, iniprobated the entjre proceed- 
ing. Practioe and e3^>erience alone could teach these forms : 
the important knowledge was not generally diffused amongst the 
people: and the lore was concealed with jealousy from the 
profane multitude, by the wise and powerful ‘ lawmen. ’ Such 
was the efficacy ascribed to these mystic sentences, that words 
which seemed speken in sport, and heard with inattention^ 
were afterwards found to be invested with the rigid strength 
4lf judicial validity. The charm had struck, and no power 
could dissolve it. An example may be given, in the adventure 
of Gunner, who, acting under the advice of the crafty Nial, 
proceeded in the disguise of a travelling smith to the house of 
lluttr, a powerful chieftain, who had refused to refund the 
dowry of the repudiated Unna. The simulated Hedin, for this 
was me name of the smith whose garb Gunnar had assumed, 
contrived to lead the discourse of his host to the points in dis- 
pute, and to induce him to recite the proper form of citation 
adapted to the suit. Gunnar repeated it, but erroneously. The 
aelf-widowed husband laughed, and mocked him : Gunnar then 
uttered the summons in due form, and caUed his companions, 
who had accompanied him as his workmen, to witness it. The 
mirth of the evening was not interrupted, and no one present 
suspected that the ceremony was ought, save the gibe of Hedi% 
who was celebrated for his sarcastic humour^ Gunnar depajifir 
cd early the next morning; but when the Chieftain heard fr^ 
his servants that a scarlet sleeve discovered its bright hue 
ncath the sooty jerkin of the smith, and that a golden ring h^ 
heen seen to glitter on his finger, he suspected the truth, a^ 
he felt himself compelled to obey the legal mandate. 

A more romantic instance of the binding strength of tlie law- 
forms is found in the life of * Gunnlaug wMi the seipent t^cui^e.* 
The youthful Poet sought instruction in the law from Tlmrstein 
the Wise. A year was passed in listening to Thorstein’s lessons ; 
but the severer studies of Gunnlaug were relieved by foe con- 
templation of foe charms of the fair^aired Helga, foe dao^ter 
of the sage; he loved, and knew that he was loved again. 
It chtmeed tfl» they were sitting at the board when Giirni- 
laug spake to ^orstom — * One law form yet remainefo, which 
^ thou hast not taught me; nor do I yet know how a maiden is 
* to be wedded. ’-—Thorstein answered, that few words werO 
ns^ed ; and he repeated foe form of espousal. Gunnlaug then 
leave to repeat his lesson to Helga, a request to Which 
foe fofoet assented, after slightly hinting that the qfiort, wag 
idle, mte lover, however^ pronounced foe wedding wordi; wifo 

Andem^ nf the Scmdinamanu 

precision and solemniQr» and named bis witnesses. Aft irbo 
were present laughed at the playful children; bul» ki thea^ 
. ter time, Ounnlaug vindicated his ri^t to the hand of 
in bloodshed and in death. Notwimstanding the labours ^ 
Augustine»*we suspect dial the ancient wedding form of the 
Pagan Saxons is yet retained in the ritual of the Established 
Church, when the wife is taken ^ to have and to hold, from thia 

* day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in 
^ idekness in heehfa, to love and to cherish^ till death us do 
^ part. ’ I These words, as a learned Catholic divine, Bishop 
Cnaloner, observes, are inserted in the service according to the 
ancient custom of England ; and even when the Latin mass was 
sung by the priest, the promises which accompany the delivery 
of tne symbolical pledge of union were repeated to and by the 
blushing bride, in a more intelligible longue. % 

We nave already alluded to the poetical spirit of the Scandi- 
navian law forms. Being the foundation of the law, they could 
scarcely fail to retain the language, or at least the echo of the 
language, in which they were first framed. This is curiously 
exanpnhed in the * TrygdamaL ’ In times when the deadly 
feud might be compensated by the blood fine, no legal proceea- 
ing could be of greater importance than the ceremonies whk^ 
iatight the avenger that his hand was staid; and hence, ^ the as* 
littrtince oj' truce ^ which was given to the murderer, was invested 
impressive solemnity, and marked by deep poetical feeling. 
Strife was between Harold and Thorwald"* — spake the judge 
but now I and the country have set peace between them.— 
^ T%c fine hath been told which the Deemsters doomed 

* Jet them be friends in the guild and the guesting house, at the 

* folkmoot and at the bidding, in the church and in the hall. 

* May he who breaks his plighted troth be banished and 
^ driven from land and home, as far away as man may flee.— Let 
^ him a forflemed man, whilst Christian men shall seek the 

In the older forms, the alliteration as well as the rythm are 
more strongly marked. According to the usage of Salisbury, the 
bride answered — * 1 take thee John to my wedded house bonder, to 

* haye aitd to hold, fro this day forward, for better for worsa> for 

* riefaer for poverer, in syknesse in hele, to be bonere and bmtom 
(z. e. bbedieot), in bedde and at horde, till dethe us do parte, {if 

* hidychurche it mil ordain ) ; and tberto I plighte thee my ^oth. ’ 
IKfiflt the exception of the penulflroate clause, every phrase in thie 
energetic poeti^ declaration bespeaks its nationality and antt^ui^« 
The form received some slight variations in the different 

aitscs i! hdt ibie substoCe always continued the same. 

AfmetH SnOM S^andirk&^kililu Atxg. 

« tjhurch^ whiktMie herds rfiaU Heed before tKd alter of the 
^ heathen god, whilst rtie fire, shall flame, whilst the j^ass afeiH 
< be gre^, whilst the babe shall after the mother, wWlst. 

* the modier shall give suck 4a the bal>e, whilst the ship shall 

* saib whilst the shield shall glitter, whilst the sun shall shine, 

* whSst the hawk shall soar, whilst tlie heavens shall roll, whilst* 

the wind shall blow* Let him be forbidden from the 

chmrh and from Christendom, from the house of God and the 

^ fellowship of all good men, and let him never And a resting 
‘ place except in Hell* ^ C 
‘ Every legal form and act was done and pronounced in the 
presence of time and * steadfast’ witnesses; and it lived only in 
their memory. Waxnnd parchment were not traced; no re- 
cord or register authenticated the judgment of the courts which 
was preserved only by the recollection and knowle<lgo of the 
’judges who pronounced the decree, or of the assembled peo- 
ple who ratified the sentence. This usage of oral pleading^*, 
and of proving legal proceedings by oral testimony, might be 
thought to be inconsistent with the assumption of the antiquity 
of written laws in Scandinavia, did we not know that the same 
practice was adopted by other systems of jurisprudence which 
are more familiar to ns, such as the custumol of Normandy, 
and the assizes of the kingdom of Jerusalem. In Normandy, 
a judgment pronounced by the King, sitting as Duke of Nor^ 
mandy, was ‘ recorded ’ by his testimony, added to that of one 
witness ; or the royal judge might substitute three other witnesses 
in his stead : seven witnesses were required for the recotd of 
tbfe exchequer of the assize. In these proofs it is clear the 
compilers of the custumal did not contemplate the production 
of any written document as evidence of past decrees or pro- 

^ ‘ Le record de court Ic roi est record des choses qui sont faftes 
devout le roy. Toutes les choses qui sont faites devant le roy, 
pourtant qu’il y en ait ung aultre avec luy, out record, le record peult 
il faire soy et aultre. et si il ne Ic veult faire. il peult estre faict pv 
trois aultres *«***♦ Record d*eschiquicr doit estre faict au moios 
par sept personnes creables, a qui Ton doibt enjpihdre qu’ilz diiont 
verite par le serment qu*ilz ont flat au roT. Et si ilz n'ont fiiibt 
aerment au roi ilz doibvent jurer que ilz recorderont et diront verity 

* * # * Le record peut estre eu des choses qui sont faitei cf dictes cm 
oitroi^es en Tesclnquier a * ★ ♦ Record d’assize est fait en la manierfe 
comme celui d’escliiqqier ♦ * * ♦ Tout record doibt estre jatet de ce 

ete diet et oui/. ' — Le Grand Cofistumier de Normandie^ c. 102. 8. 
7^ . Jthe Normans bad also record of view, of battle, of marriage^ 
and of pasnage ; all in confomuty to the principles of tb|oir> ancestote. 


'Mmefg' qfihe Standtntmmbi, iM 

ceedings^ swore ^ as» to wKat ttjeJ^4lia4 fcdttrf, 

• and whatdiiid been" fiaid/ In fact, they cH^nstititti^ ^ 
. quest, or jury, udiich the court was tlie vhne. It maybe 

sutoosed that thia mode of authentication was often attended 
with difficulty, especially when any considerable period had 
’ elapsed. John of Ibelin, therefore, advises the suitor to assem- 
ble in court as many of bis friends as lie possibly can ; and he 
..^was * to pl^y them to be attentive to the words which are 
14^ * spoken in the pleading8,~to hear well, and to recollect well, 

* in ord|r that they may be able to rrrord the plea when need 
^ shall regime. * * From tliese passages we may discern the rea- 

' son whj tne customs of the ci^ of London are never certified 
in writing to the superior courts, but only the month of the 
Recorder^ who for that purpose attends at the bar of the courts 
in persoU* 

Litigation was not discouraged by the Scandinavians. In the 
enumeration of the ‘ laghmen ’ (lawmen) of the FiSst Goths, a 
note of censure is attached to the name and memory of Kring-- 
AllL It is therein recorded, that he * brought many crooks 
‘ and crotchets into our law. * The evil, however, was of such 
wide extent, that it owed very little indeed to the perverted inge- 
nuity df Kring^AUu Subtlety was inherent in the law, chicanery 
in tne people. Law, as is too well known, is often loved purely 
for its own sake, — for the stimulus wbich, like other perilous 
games, it affiirds to the minds of tlie conflicting parties, who, 
much as the lawyer is vituperated for ministering to their appetite, 
find quite as much pleasure in fighting for the sliell as lie ever 
docs in swallowing the oyster. The Northmen were additionally 
. excited by the nature of* their judicial system r all might share 
in the administration of the law, and all might fancy thaiC 
they were masters of the art. Reports of actions and suits at 
law are constantly narrated in the domestic Sagas of the Ice- 
landers. They bold as distinguished a place in their histories 
as 'achievements of the spear and battfe-axe: and the acute- 
ness of the pleader appears to have commanded no less respect 
than the genius of the Skalld. 

The fdcill of the Jurists would be of little worth, could it not 
make the worse appear the better cause, and delay the righte- 
ous judgment. The technicalHjes of Northern law, afforded a 
reasonable scope for such a di^Iay of aUlity ; and the faculty 

* Qui veult tost sou plait atteindre, il doit faire estre en la court 
de ses antliB com il pore, et prter les que ils soient eutentis as 
paroles qui semnt dites as plais. ei Hen ent&ndte et retenir^ si que il 
saduaft men le reeerier as egars et as eonoisMueesse meatier li eat.— 
Asmzes dt c. 4*5. 

Il^ AndmfMli^ ike ScaniiMde^* 

was BO highly Tailzied, that even the Mqnarch^ of ac^Pr 

times entered the. lists as Adyocates. A reina;rkphH,^^Wdo 
has been preserved^ or perliaps inventedt by Snorro, in’ wn|t^i 
the two brothers^ King Eyi^ein and King Sigurd^ arc 
duced extolling theh own merib, like the sfaej^erds in Virgil 
or Theocritus* The rivals began by claiming praise for strcngtli • 
and dexterity* — Sigurd had walked erect, whilst losaled with a 
burthen, beneath \^ich Eystein fainted; and Eysteii^ could swim 
across the roaring torrent, when Sigurd had been appalled by ite 
waves. — Sigurd sent forth the truest arrow ; but Eystein darted 
over the frozen snow as swiftly as the shaft.— —Then each in- 
sisted on his mental acquirements. — Eystein exulted in his know- 
ledge of the law, and the fluency of his speech ; Sigurd allow*- 
ed the eloquence of his brotlier, but upbraided him for his un- 
worthy quibbles ; and, indeed, he had experienced their might 
in the suit defended by Eystein on tlie part of Szgtird fiz'ansoni 
and which is an amusing exemplification of the evasions allow- 
ed by the Norwegian law. 

King Sigurd had good ground of complaint against Sisurd 
Hranson^ the receiver-general of the tribute paid by the Lap- 
landers, whom he accused of peculation ; and, without calling 
in the aid of his attoriiey-geaeral, the King himself instituted 
proceedings against the discarded minister in the moot-ball of 
jBergen, where bis Norwegian Majesty appeared in his own 
proper person. Here, as the Saga hints, it had been previous- 
ly arranged, that ^ Sigurd Hranson was to be made an out- 
law. ’ Being in this predicament, the Defendant thought it 
expedient to solicit the assistance of King Eystein, who tbep 
was a kind of opposition King, and who gladly consented tp 
appear as his advocate. — King Eystein took his first ob^ef^n 
to the competency of the court — ‘ This matter must be ju^^ed 

* according to tlie common law of the land, in the shire court ; 

* it appertaineth not to the jurisdiction of the town.* — King 
Sigurd allowed the exception, though with a vei^ bad ^race^ 
and the suit was removed into the shire court of Arnanes*-^ 
Sigurd Hranson did not appear at Arhanes : at the expiration 
of his summcHis he had cast no essoign, and King Sigurd, ther^ 
fore, craved that the deemsters should pronemnee sentence of 
outlawry and fugitation. 

Ever watchful of thl^ interest of bis client, King Eystein now 
arose and spake—* It seemeth to me that in this wise and worship- 
^ ful assembly there are men well arced in the laws of Norway^ 

* and who must kopw that the court cannot thus doom a King’s 

* thane to outlawry- There were no peers of the i^cusc4^ 
in court, as we gather from the wbsequent procaedinp* T3» 


18 !^; Ancknt qf the Scm^ 

pcnnt.r^ed by Jtb^ ipy^l advocate was decided to be^ jgooQ: 
and die court i^n broke up. \ 

King Sigird pbw thought it advisable to try his cause the 
. shire court of Criiloe, whither he summoned his chief thanasf 
who wer« associated with the shU*esmcn. Loud debates arose, 
and powerflil arguments resounded ; and the suit, according to 
the expresrion employed by Snorro, was ‘ thoroughly ransack- 
^ ed. * King Eystein lay by, and said nothing, Until he feit 
ihat this investigadon would end unfavourably fbr his client; 
but then he spoke^ and excepted against tlic jurisdiction of the 
court — ‘Ifor that the defendant, vbo had his domicile within 

* Frosta-things4aWy was accused of acts done in Halogaland ; 

‘ and there were no freeholders from cither of these shires then 

* present. * The court allowed that the Defendant was not pro- 
perly put upon his country ; and the Plaintiff King was dismissed 
witiiout a day. Irritated by the repeated defeats which he had 
received from the ingenuity of his brother, King Sigurd yet be- 
came keener in the; pursuit. Ho siunnioneci all his thanes 
and their knights, and a sufficient number of tVeeholders front 

.shire, to the court which \y;is held at Hrafniste. Be- 
fore King Eystein departed from Nidaros into the place where 
tlie tiial was to be beki, lie obUiinccl a procuration from Si- 
gurd Hranson, by whicli the caUse and its defence w'as wholly 
mode over to him. Each King spake ; and the court was pro- 
ceeding with , the trial, when the wary Eystein appalled his 
brother with a new subterfuge. ‘ Since when ’ — cjiioth he, ad- 
dressing the court — ‘ hath it been the law of Norway, that you 
< freeholders are here to sit in judgment when King strives with 

* King? I will show to ye, and I will prove to jc, that the 

* pause and, its defence are mine; and King Sigurd is now 

* brin^^g his suit against me, against King Eystein, and not • 

* agmnst Sigurd Hranson. * The ‘ lawmen * answered una- 
luiuously, that no court could tiike cognizance of a royal cause, 
Except the ‘ Eyrar-thing, ’ assembled at Nidaros ; and conse- 
quently, that they had no further autljonty in the matter. 

It is foreign to otit present purpose to investigate the coristi- 
iution of this judicial assembly, which also had tlie noininalion 
of die monarens of Norway ; and we must only state, that, iri 
due time, the trial came on beforb'the Eight Hundreds ofDron- 
iheim. Witnesses w^erc called oh behalf of the Crown; and 
Bergtfior^Bpck^ the son of Svein Bryggiofot^ stood up and 
proved, tliat Sigurd Hranson had l>eeii guilty of tq^plying a 
portion df the tribute to his own use. We may conclude, that 
King Sigurd now^ j^ticipaled the fulfilment of his revenge. King 
Eysteinin howevi^, coolly remarked, ‘that he did not know wlie<* 

rot. xTkiv/m 67. N 

194 Ancief^ of thi Sccmdinavians* Abg. 

ther the witnesil li&d, or had not, upoken the btit, 

‘ be the proofs ever so dear, judgment for the defendant ixt this 
< same cause hath been^ven thrice at the common bw, and 

* once in the moot of Bergen ; and therefore I crave, that the 

* Court do now absolve Sigurd Hranson from all ftrther pur- 
‘ suit, according to law. * The law was indisputable ; and the 
court gave judgment for the defendant forthwith. Then spake 
Sigurd the king all wrathfully — ‘ Well do I see. King Eystein, 

* Uiat thou art cunning in the wiles of law, of which lam rcck- 
« less;— but I can yet seek justice in a guise, to which I per- 

* chance am better versed than thou art : * — And King Sigurd 

now appealed to his own right hand. The sea king nrepar- 

cd for battle; but in the afternoon, as he was sitting on tne deck 
of his vessel feasting, a suppliant suddenly appeared, who threw 
himself at King Sigurd’s feet. It was the delinquent Hranson, 
who prayed the King to do his will with him, rather than that 
he should be the cause of enmity between brother and brother. 
Bishop Magnus and Queen Malfrida joined their prayers to this 
appeal ; and king Sigurd granted an unwilling pardon. 

Wherever settled or dispersed, from the Orkneys to Sicily, 
the descendants of the Scandinavians have always trod the mazes 
of law with unabated pertinacity. Their chicanery spread like 
a wide-wasting pestilence, flowing on with each warlike migra- 
tion. Faithful ever to the cause of discord, * the Normans of 
Normandy inherited their proverbial love of litigation from the 
first followers of Hastings and of Rollo ; the subtleties of the 
Exchequer of Rouen, were linea^ descended from the wis- 
dom 01 die Northern folkmotc. Then, in England, the dis- 
temper was renovated by the grim Justiciars who came in witli 
William the Conqueror, and whose ghosts, in the shape of 
quirks and quillets, sometimes haunt the great hall of West- 
minster, even in an age of civilization, and without being scar- 
ed by the sunshine of intellect which blazes there. In France, 

* * Quand la Discorde encore toute noire de crimes. 
jSortant des Cordeliers pour aller aux Minimes, 

Avec cet air hideux qui fait fremir la paix 
S’arrSta pres d’un arbre au pied de son palais, 

La^ d*un ceil attentif contemplant son empire 
A raspect du tumulte elle m4mc s^admire, 

Elle y voit par le coclie d’Evreux et des Mans 
Aecourir a grand flots see fideles Normands 
Elle y voit aborder le Marquis, la Comtesse, 

Xe. Bourgeois, le Manant, le Clerg4, la Noblesse. ’ 

Le Lutrin. Chant 1. V; 35. 

Mmeni Law the Scmidinavicmt. 


the caprious spirit of the Normans obtained a lordly sway. 
The * wise custoin of Normandy * was considered as tne veiy 
ntodd of ^risjprudcnce ; and its principles were adimted into 
most of the tribunals of the Pays Costumier. The !^fl ^ter- 
wards followed the Red Cross into the Holy Land. When Pa- 
lestine was conquered by the Latins, the Norman law became one 
erf the component parts of the Assizes of Jerusalem. The Cadi was 
displaced by the feudal seneschal ; but if the Crusaders could have 
appreciated the Alcoran, the book of radiance might have excited 
regret when its summary and despotic justice was compared with 
the e!aT)orate pages of John of ibclin, w ho declares, that it is 
out of his power to enumerate all the modes of delaying a suit ; 
‘ for the more one man is wiser and more cunning, and a bet- 
‘ ter pleader tliaii anotlier, the more is he able to discover ; 

f Tlie naivete of the language employed in the Assizes is suf- 
ficiently amusing. Ml y a trois fuites principaux de plait, et eni 

* chascuns des dites fuites a plusiors manieres de fuites quo trop se- 
‘ roieiit longues et riotteuses a mettre en cscrit ce que Ten poroit 

* metre a escrit, ne nul ne Ics y poroit toutes metre, car end que 

* ckascun est plus sages ei plus sotUil et meillor Pleideoir Vun que Vau* 

* ire^ cn contreuve il plus. * — Assizes de Jerusalem^ c. xxxi. 

No pettifogger embued with all die mysteries of sham bail and sham 
pleas, could better understand the art of wearying a plaintirfthan Johu 
of Ibelin, Earl of Jaffa, of Ascalon, Lord of Beritus and of Rama ; his 
precepts for lengthening the law’s delay, occupy many a folio page ; 
and when he teaches * comment Ton peut longuement plait fuir, * he 
declares his precepts with the zest and spirit of an old sportsman. 
As an example of the proceedings, we may note the course which he 
prescribes to a defendant in an appeal of murder or homicide, who, 
by * demanding a day, * might have a reasonable chance of postpon- 
ing the hearing of his cause until the great day of final judgement. — 

* Qui veut Plait fuir d clam de quoi I’on dit que assize tot le jour, et 

* le clam cst de murtre ou de homicide ou de chose que il conveigne 

* avoir, aiiis qu’on demande le jour a cost clam se la Court Tes- 

* garde et mete son retenail — sans dire plus a celle fois Et quaud 

* il aura perdu cel esgart die je veuil avoir jour se la Court fes- 
** garde par cc que Ton onques dc cest clam nc se clama de moi cil 
“ Court et mete son retenail. ^Et quand il aura cel esgard perdu 

* die cc meismes, et tant plus — que Ton onques ne se clama de moi en 

* Cour ou je fusse present et mettra soi en esgart sauf son retenail, et 
‘ die, “ Je veuil avoir jour se la Court Tesgarde par ce que j’entends 

“ que Ton a de tous noviaus dams jour, et mete son retendil. ’’ -Et 

^ apres die, ‘‘ je veux avoir jour se la Court Tesgarde por ce que j’en- 
“ tens que Ton doit avoir jour aunoviau clam, se costume ne le tot; 
“ et mete son retenail. -Et apres die, Je veuil avoir Jour en 

N 2 


Ancknt Lam the Scandinavians. 

and certainly, according to the mysteries which he unrav^ it 
may be suspected, that many an action which was begun in th0 
fn-st year of the reig^ of King Godfrey of Bullen, ihust have 
remained still undecided when Saladiii delivered the Holy City 
from the pollution of the unbelievers. 

Montesquieu supposes, that the knowledge of the older laws 
of the Teutonic tribes, became useless or obsolete at the period 
when trial by battle acquired greater prevalency* But his theqiy 
relating to the battle ordeal, and its supposed connexion with 
negative proofs, docs not retain its pertinency in Scandinavia, 
when this mode of trial was irregular in its system, andr often 

King Frolho decreed, that all controversy, that is to sajv aB 
wrongs or affronts, were to be decided in the field, f Accord- 
ing to a chapter added to the Uppland law, % and which has been 

a noted by Robei’tson from Stiernhdok, the usage of the ‘ heathen 
ays ' allowed of duel or single combat, in answer to the inex- 
piable accusation of cowardice, an accusation which could only be 
effaced by blood ; the recreant wlio refused to give the satisfac- 
tion of a gentlbman, ‘ where three ways meet, * lost Ins lii'tVy and 

‘ Cest clam par ce quo fentens que Ton doit avoir jour a tous novtacn 

* clams se assize ne le tot, et mete son retenail. -Et npres die, je 
** veuil avoir jour se la Court I'esgarde, par ce que a tous noviaus 
** clams, se Fassizc ou I'usage ou coustume ne le tot p'on doit avoir 

jour]3 ne je n entens que il ait coustume que cel jour teiillc, et mete 

son retenail. ” Et apres je veuil avoir jour se Ja cour Tesgardo' 

por ce que n’entens qu'il soit usage que cest jour teulle et se mete' 

cn esgart et en retenail. ” Et apres die, “ je veuil avoir jour si 

la Court Tesgarde, par ce que je n'entens qu'n y ait assize en cest 
** Royaume qui le jour teule & mete son retenail. ” — A summary of 
l^e Assizes is given by Mr Mill in his lucid and valuable history of the 
Crusades. The text published by La Thau mass! ere is much corrupt- 
ed by the blunders either of the transcriber or of the printer. A 
correct edkioh of the Assizes and of the Custumals of France, most 
ef which, in their antient form, arc yet ineditbd, would do honour to* 
the French Nation. 

f * De qualibet vero controversia ferro decerni sanxft, specidsius 

* viribus quam verbis, coiiHigendum existimans. Quod si alter dirni* 

* cantium relate pede praenotati orbis* gyrum exccderet perinde ac 

* vinctus causae detrimentum reciperet. * 

t The chapter is entitled — 

* On battle and single Combat ; from the dd laws which were vseA 
^ in the heathen time * * If a man speaks to another those words 
^ which* ought not to be spoken*— Thou art not a man's equal, thou 

* art not a man in thy heart — I am as much a man as tiiou art. 
'then absdl they meet at the meeting of tlirce ways, &c. 

4 . 

iSfO. AncwU Laws of Ihs Scandinavians. 1^7 

ncfver could afterwards defend himself hy catli 5 or be r^eiv- 
•ed as a witness. Tliat, which was the direful cause of war be- 
fore the rape of Helen, could not fail to inflame the an^r of the 
Scandinavians ; and their combats very frequently originated in 
* ladies k)ve and drucry. * The last and most memorable duel 
in Iceland was fought between the two poets, Giiniilaug with the 
serpent tongue, and Rafu. They contended for the hand of 
the fair-haired Helga, whose espousal we have already related, 
hnd both died in tlie conflict. The fate of these youthful 
loversicxcited universal commiseration ; and it was enacted, ‘ in 
‘ one of the greatest folkmotcs over known in Iceland, and by 
‘ the advice of the wisest men in Iceland, that thenceforth the 
‘ duel should be taken away for ever. ’ It is scarcely proper^ 
however, to give the name of judicial battle to such conflicts, 
•to which, as in a modern duel, the parties were incited, because 
no award of a Judge could either redeem . their honour, or allay 
< their feelings. 

Although the Sagas furnish many instances of duels in which 
mere right of property, — debt, or dowr}', or inlicriianco, — was 
the object of contention ; — yet, strictly speaking, it cannot he 
asserted that trial by battle was the legal mode of deciding any 
civil action. The law put the Sandinavians upon their coun- 
try; but still they fought, because it was proved by experience, 
that the stroke of the sword . quieted possession more effectually 
•than the judgment of the court; and, like King Frotho, they 
'thought it beseemed them better to strive in strength than in 
words. We doubt whether any instance occurs of die employ- 
ment of a champion in Scandinavia, unless we admit the autho- 
rity of a Danish ballad, in which, according to the usual plot of 
romance, a maiden is delivered by a friendly arm from the slander 
•of a false accuser. It is singular, that, according to the Teutonic 
customs, a champion was not allowed to the weaker sex. A wo- 
man appealed by a man ivas compelled to wage battle in her own 
proper person ; but a strange device was adopted, by which the 
combatants were brought to a certain degree of equality. The 
man was planted, os it werq, in a hole dug in the ground, so 
^leep that be sank into it up to liis girdle; thus conflned, a great 
advantage was afforded to his iemale opponent, who could 
range round and .round him, striking him on the head with a 
thong, or sling, to which a beav^ stone was attached. He was 
furnished with a club ; and il^ m attempting to reach the wo- 
4 iuin, his blows failed three times, so tliat the club thrice beat 
npon the ground, it was decided that he was vanquished. ^ 

In foe well known duel between the false traitor Macarius ^d 

198 Ancient La^ of the Scandinavians. Aag. 

Ubage detcrmioed the , size rmd nature of the w^pons> asid 
the theatre of the Scandinavian combat. Desperate warriors 
chose an island, or a. ^ holm, ’ from whence neither could Hee. 
The duel, therefore, often acquired the name of the ‘ hota- 
gang, * A narrow space was assigned to the duellists- A hide, 
nine ells in length, was extended upon the ground upon which 
they fought- Sometimes, also, the lists were enclosed by hazel 
slangs, or a ring was marked out by stones; — ^mariy of the 
Druidical circles, as they arc called, were, probably, battle-rings 
of this nature. He who slipped under the barrier, or "le who 
was beaten out of tlie ring, though his foot only passed beyond 
the boundary, was to be considered as conquered. This, in- 
deed, was King Frodo’s law. He also was conquered whose 
blood first stained the hide. Such regulations were obviously 
intended to save the waste of human life. A conventional tex- 
mination was given to the battle, winch satisfied the honour 
of the victor, whilst the vanquished knew that he could not 
obliterate his disgi'ace by protracting the struggle. It is not 

the dog of Montargis, the faithful plaintiff was protected by a con- 
trivance not dissimilar to that which here confined the stronger ^r- 
ty. Grave authors who have treated on judicial combat, have receiv- 
ed tills romantic tale as truth, though it requires no great exertion 
of sagacity to doubt its authenticity. It has not been remarked, 
that the whole adventure is in fact borrowed from a romance, most 
probably of French origin — but which we have only seen in an an- 
cient Spanish translation, [^Historia della Reyna SevUla^ Impreso can 
Ucencia en Valladolid en casa de la viuda de Francisco de Cotdaaa^ 
1625.2 The murderer, in the romance, bears the same name as in 
the French tradition, and all the incidents correspond, except that 
the dog is not furnished with a hiding place. The combat is oddly 
described ; and an extract may amuse some of our readers. * Dixo 

* el Obispo, Macayre id a besar las reliquias, y seredes mas seguro 
f del can e de vuestro liccho acabar. — E dixo Macgyre, Sehor no, 

< no besare las reliquias, ni rogare a Dios quo me ayude contra un- 
‘ can El duque Don Jayrae solto el gfd^o, y dixole, a Dios 
‘ te encomiendo que te venguc de aquci que 'a tu Senor mate, y el 

* galgo dexose yr para Macayre. Macayrifi quando lo vido v€?nir, 
f tomo su palo, y pebsole herir ; Mas el can se abaxo y salto de 
^ traves ^10 le pudo alcan 9 ar, y dio tal herida en tierra que mas de 

* un deo^ entro en ella, y cl galgo ahdava al derredor mirando por 

< do podria travar. y Nuestro Senor quiso raostrar ay un gran mila- 
f que quiso ayudar al galgo porque tomasse vengan 9 a de qmen 

* ihato a su Senor Aubertin de Mondifer • - - • - y assi anduvo asse- 

* chando hasta que se fue a travarle dela gargaita ante que el tray- 

* dor le pudiesse dar cl palo y tuvolo coma a un puerco quq no so 

* podia partir del’ - ’ 


1820* AncietU La*ws of the ScanUnaviam* 

difficult to discern the affinity between these customs and the 
code whic^governed the more gorgeous exercise of the tonr- 
nament: rfor do we want a more homely parallel. la the 
Kamping Matches of Norfolk and Suffolk, our East Anglian 
clowns ar^ the genuine successors of the Scandinavian Kcem- 
per f * and the observances which determined the victory of 
the champions of the heroic age, are rudely imitated by our 
churls, in wrestlings and single-stick, and boxing. 

When we read of Scandinavia, it seems enveloped in a per- 
petual snow-storm. Its inhabitants are pictured in our imam- 
nations, as a race of stern and barbarous warriors, intent omy 
upon war and plunder ; yet, according to their polity, the mem- 
bers of the community were knitted together by the closest social 
bonds. Moral duties were enforced by the penalties of the law 
which came in aid of the precepts and dictates of friendship, of 
charity, and of natural affection. The husbandman, if his own 
hinds failed him, could demand the gratuitous assistance of bis 
fellow-yeomen in gathering his crop ; and, with solemn earnest- 
ness, the law endeavourea to avert the hand of the spoiler, by 
reminding him, that tlic field, open to the trespasser, and un- 
guarded Gy the master, ^ was under God's lock, with heaven for 
‘ its roof, though but the hedge is its wall. ’ f The crew, whose 
united strength was unequal to the task of launching the vessel, 
could summon the people of tlie country to join in the labour; 
and if the ship of the seaman was wrecked, they were required to 
attend with their teams, to help him to save his property. When 
the mother died in childbed, the law orderetl matrons of the 
hundred to give suck to the infant, each in her turn, and the 
corpse was mrne to the grave by the neighbours of the depart- 
ed. Even animals were considered as being, in some measure, 
included in the compact of society. The industrious beaver 

* bath his house like tlie husbandman ; ’ and if the beaver was 
killed, and his cell overturned, a fine of three maiks, both for 

^ See Ihre, in voce Kamp. 

f *' Now, it may happen that a man steals com out of the fie]\ and 

* breaks God's lock, and binds his burthen, and hears it into liis lathe, 

* or into the shaw, then he is called strawback, (v. Ihre, in vocc 

* Agnabahcr,) If he is taken, and lawfully convicted, then hath he 
^ fiore&ulted bis life, and all his fee . ' — Oslgoiha L.Edzbris, B« F. 33. 

ISie Westraanna lagh, though less severe, is equally poetical in its 
* If a man plucks ears of corn from the field, and is taken 

m the open fact, let him forfeit three marks, or defend himself with 

* the oaths of twelve men. The field hath the hedge for its wall, tmd 
^ heaven for its roof. fT. L» Mankelgis^ B. F. 82. 

200 Jiieicnt Zflws tUeJScancUiufvians,. 

t % 

blood- witCj Ijiai^esc^en^ wps p^id to tiie lund* 

£kif the prifn ititli^bitams of the forest, the enetm^ iminki^ 
were dedav^d’ by HacO Athpifltane to be out of the protection 
of the law. * The bear and the wolf shall be outlaws in wery 
'* place. * C* Bibm og ulf seal hvervetna utl.Tgr vera ; ’3 — a phrase 
which illustrates the Snxon definition of an outlaw, — the bearer 
of the wolPs head. Yet, notwithstanding this perpetual sen- 
temee of outlawry, the bear himself was entitled to a legal 
summons, before he could be punished for his misdeeds. But 
this strange opinion belongs rather to the history of supl^rstitioh 
than to the histoiy of law. 

Scandinavia affords, wc believe, the earliest example of a legis- 
lative provision for the relief of the Poor. He who could not 
fearii his food, might claim a home in every liouse in the towmship. 
The owner was compelled to receive the beadsman, passing him 
on to the next farm, after he had entertained him during the pe- 
riod prescribed by law. Lest the churlish fanner might ill-treat 
the needy under the colour of the law, it was forbidden to re- 
fuse shelter to any pauper after sun-set. And if any mischance 
thdn bdel him, — if he was starved by the cold, or toni by die 
wolves,— the full blood fine was exacted from the inhuman 
transgressor. Poverty and riches arise, in an agricultural com-^ 
munity, according to Ihcir natural and unforcea average. Toll ^ 
is the capital of the husbandman ; his weal and his woe, his 
lo^es and his gains, arc interchanged in each generation like 
the summer and the winter ; and in each generation die account 
is balaiicecf. Nor wa$ the charity unwise which diminished the 
sum of human misery, by ensuring to die destitute a small por- 
tion of the harvest which others had sown and reaped. In die 
middle Noway and Sweden alone possessed this system of 
Pooi^laws, which were called into action there by the poverty of 
th& Churefi. Few religious communities existed. The. dole 
waS'inot dealt to £hc beadsman at the gate of the abbey. Nb 
spire arose amidst the wilds, directing the wanderer to the^man- 
sion of the Cross, under whose roof the hungry were fed, and 
the weaiy fiiund rest and kindness. It was therefore necessaiy 
thabboiBn individual hand should be compelled to afford that 
aid which piety— though perhaps mistaken piety— bestowed {a 
other realms. 

War might seeth to be the most favourite occupation of the 
follower^ of the scia kings, from whose fury Europe prayed to 
be^ddivbned. Yet 'thi^r legislation is copious in detenxtin^g 
the r^hts arising from the most peaceful of all human occupa- 
tions. And the Agricultural laws contained in the ^^orwe^ian 
and ill* the books entitled dif 

1880. Aficieni £aw of the ScanMnavians^ 801 

the Bt^inga Balkerj or the Widherboa BaUer^ 
cbmpiled witli "p^nliar care and precision. Under m llicfe* 
.jnent sky, the harvest was not to be earned but by unwearied 
labour; and hence the legislators of the North protected the 
husbandman by their tillage code. No exact parallel can be 
found to this portion of Scandinavian jurisprudence. In Fleta^ 
there are some chapters relating to the management of a manor, 
and pointing out the duties of the farming servants, or demes- 
nial vassals of the lord. Of more importance is a treatise on A- 
griculturl, written in Norman French, and which our English 
lawyers often included in their legal collections. Thus it is in- 
serted in the Liber Homcj to which we have before alluded ; 
but these works merely teach agriculture. They do not le- 
gislate upon the subject; whilst the Scandinavians gave a le- 

§ al sanction to the ^ custom of the country. * As elucidating 
le history of society in the uttermost march lands of European 
civilization, the agricultural law of the Scandinavians is of sin^ 

S ’ ir value. It presents a perfect view of their rural economy ; 

ning all the rights and duties of the landlord and the tenant, 
the master and the servant. The following chapter, found in 
the code of Haco Athelstane, is repeated in the laws of King 
Magnus. * 

•^ow it may happen that a man buys *twrJc (/. e. agrees for 
^ labour) from a free man, then all the matters upon which they 
^ have agreed shall be well and truly held. * 

^ If the husbandman (bondi) will not hold his covenant with 
^ his labourer, but discharges him from his service, then the 
‘ labourer shall crave his victual in the presence of two witness- 
f es, and offer to do such work as they had before agreed up- 
^ on : and if the husbandman will not accept the work of we 
* labourer, then he forfeits three oros of silver to the King, and 
f the labourer shall have his wages and the worth of his vic- 
‘ tual. * 

« ^ But if the labourer will not hold his covenant with the hus- 
< bandman, then the husbandman shall crave the w'ork which 
* the labourer undertook to perform, and offer to provide his 
^ victual in the presence of two witnesses ; and if the labourer 
‘ will not perform the work, then he forfeits tlirce oras of silver 
* to the King ; and he shall also pay to the husbandman as mudi 
* as he would have received for his wages. But nevertheless, 
* *ihe husbandman is not to have the worth of the victual, be» 
' * cause he keeps that to himself. ’ 

* This chapter relating to a pact, b placed in the 
though rather out of its natural order. 

^2 Ancknl Law the Scandimoians. 4ag« 

' Ai\d if my mm knowinglj takes another labpnr^r 

< into bis sesTTiCe, tbea.he foneils half a mark ofisilvcr to the 

‘ ktng.^ 

* And if a labourer undertakes to do one man’s task, and 
‘ Gontiot work H onts then trustwortlijr men shalLrcckon how 

* much ought to be foreprized out of his wages. ’ 

^ If a labourer is sick or wounded^ and lies thus during one 

* fortnight^ and no longer, then no abatement shall be made 

* of bis wages, (provided it be ascertained by tnistwortliy 
*' men, that the husbandman hath enough to niaiutairp hiinself) ; 

* but if he lies longer, the loss of work is to be reckoned by 

* trustworthy men, together with the worth of the victual he 

< enjoys, both which shall be deducted ; or otherwise let him 
« leave his service and go to his relations. * 

Equally minute and perspicuous are the laws whidi regulate 
the cultivation and^management of the land ; aaid they may be 
put in competition with the most accurate farming lease of mo- 
dern days. The details of crops and fallows, of the manure 
which the farmer was to bestow upon the fields, of the course 
of cropping which he was to pursue, and of the stock which he 
was to leave at the expiration of Ids tenure, occupy many a 
chapter in these ancient monuments of Icgislatioti, and afford 
frequent proof of the comforts which had Mien to the lot of the 
Korthmen. Luxury was denied to them by nature, and the 
magnificence of art was unknown ; but they had com in the 
barn, and kine in the byre; and the free and opulent yeoman 
.ploughed the stubborn soil. * * 

^ If the Brebon laws were collected, they would outweigh and out- 
wilue all the jurisprudence of Scandinavia. Hitherto, the authentic 
untiquktes of Ireland have been miserably neglected ; but we may 
now hope for better days, since the learning of an O'Connor is pa- 
tronized by the munificence of a Grenville. Timt the ancicat 
Ifish, the toSid Irish, calumniated as tliey have been by their invad- 
etSf had attained a high d^ee of civilization, may be inferred from 
the agricultural laws included in tlie Fragments published by Val- 
lancej. Tim fines for trespasses are«curiously detailed and gnuluat- 
cd. They had common land, and also much enclosed land. Heavy 
penalties were imposed for breaking fencee* ^ For a g^p of the widtii 
of three stakes, a young bull heifer was paid ; for five, aM^rown 
hjoU heifer 4 % ciglit, a good heifer ; for twelve, five cows. *n|pber 
trees wore protected against injury: the country, therefiire, must 
have been cleared, and well cultivated. We pen this note with pecu- 
liar pleasure, when we recollect that wc first derived our informatioU 
from one cS the fairest of the daughters of the Gael. 

1820. Ancimi Lam the Scandinavians* 203 

Tbc safeguard of the wealth and of the liberty of the Scittidt- 
navians, .wastfound in the popular tribunals which w^ere^the 
prigin of our juries. These institutions have been imj^fecSv 
ex^ined by ^emhook, whose abridgement of the Swedim 
laws is the only work relating to the subject which is easily ac-- 
he&siblc to the general reader; and we would willingly enlarge 
upon theiD) were we not compelled to close our desultory cS- 
servations. We now find, that we have lingered too long a- 
mongst the singularities of the Northern law, without attempt- 
ing to inv4btigatc its essential basis. Contemplating the antique 

i rarb of the judges, as t3iey are seated on the Hill of Pleas, wc 
lave neglected to listen to their wisdom ; yet wc are less willrag 
to regret our negligence, when we recollect, that the principles 
embodied in tlie judicial polity of the Scandinavians, may re- 
ceive a more familiar and useful illustration, by considering 
them in conjunction widi the ancient common law of Englanol 
If we return to these investigations, it is because the deUils of 
the law are the fresh and perennial comments of history. The 
life of man is consumed in striving against his own follies, bis 
own vices, and his own crimes; — and the volumes which teach 
us to consider every fellow-creature as a fellow-knave, afford 
the most afflicting, yet the most instructive, anatomy of the 
human heart. 

Art. X. !• Endymion : A Poetic Bomance. By John Kjbats. 

8 VO. pp. 207. London, 1818. 

2 . Lamia j Isabella^ The F^ve of St AgneSy and other Poems. 
By John Keats, Author of Endymion. 12tno. pp. 200. 
London, 1820. 

’ . ' , i. 

\\r^ had never happened to see cither of these volumes lIU 
very lately — ^and have been exceedingly struck with the 

g enius they display, and the spirit of poetry which breathes 
trough all their extravagance. That imitation of our older 
writers, and especially of our older dramatists, to which we can- 
not help flattering ourselves diat we have somewhat contributed^ 
has brought on, as it were, a second spring in our poetry ond 
few of its blossoms are either more proiiise of sweetness or richer 
in promise, than this which is now before us. Mr Keats^ we 
mnuerstand, is still a very young man ; and his whole works^ 
indeed, bear evidence enough of ii\e fact. They are full of ex- 
travagance and irregularity, rash attempts at originality, in- 
terminable wanderings^ and excessive obscuriiy. They mani- 

Keats*5 Poem. 

irequiireif all the indulgence that »n be daimed 

lor a iirst attempt but we think it no less plain Aat Aey de- 
efirre it; for they are flushed all over with the ridi lights of 
so coloured and bestrewn with the flowers of poetrj^ 
4feat' even while perplexed and bewildered in their lab]^infhs» 
iris impossible to resist the intoxication of their sweetness, cir 
t^'dnit our hearts to tJie enchantments so lavi^ly preseirt* 
Tlife models upon which he has formed himself in tne Endy- 
mion, the earliest and by much the most considerable of Ins 
poems, arc obviously the Faithful Shepherdess of Ffetcher, and 
ihe Sad Sliopherd of Ben Jonson; — the exquisite metres and 
inspired diction of which he has copied with great boldness and 
fidelity-^and, like his great originals, has also contrived to im- 
part to the whole piece that true rural and poetical air which 
oreafoes only in them and in Theocritus — which is at once home- 
ly and majestic, luxurious and rude, and sets before us the ge- 
naine sights atid sounds and smells of the country, with all uie 
magic and grace of Elysium. His subject has the disadvantage 

,oCjbeing mythological ; and in this respect, as well as on ac- 
count ofthe raised and rapturous tone it consequently assumes, his 
poetry may be better compared perhaps to the Comus and the 
Arcades at Miltim, of which, also, there are many traces of hni- 
tation. The great distinction, however, between him and these 
divine authors, is, that imagination in them is subordinate to 
reason and judgment, while, with him, it is paramount and su- 
preme— that their ornaments and images are employed to em* 
mliish and recommend just sentiments, engaging incidents, and 
natural characters, while liis arc poured out without measure or 
V^raint, and with no apparent design but to unburden the 
OTeast of the anthor, awl give vent to the overflowing vein of 
his fancy. The thin and scanty tissue of his story is merely the 
light frame work on which his florid wreaths are suspencled; 
nm while his imaginations go rambling and entangling tbeON 
eelveaeverywhere, like wild honeysuckl^ all idea cf swer rca- 
atid plan, and consistency, is utterly forgotten, mid aiw 
strarngted in their waste fertility.^ A great part of the work 
'iiuleed, is written in the strangest and most fantastical mamer 
that can be imagined. It seems as if the author had ventured 
«v^thlAg that occurred to him in the shape of a glittering 
image or striking expression — taken the first word thatpresfua* 
^itself to make up a rhjine, and then made that word the 
germ of a new clnster of images — a hint for a new cxcormon of 
me frncy— and so wandered on, equally forgetful whence kh 
tcaune^ atid heedless whither he was going, till he had covered 
jbh |U>0es with an mterminable arabesque di coniiected 

1820 . 

Keats’i^ Poem^ 


Incongruous figures^ that multiplied as tlicy extended, and were 
onljr.harmonked 1^ Ae brightness of tlieir tints, and^thepri^ceil 
of their forms) In this rash and headlong career he # 1^9 ^ 
course many lapses and failures. There is no work, accan^ 
indy, from which a malicious critic could cull more matter fpr 
ridiede, or sflect more obscure, unnatural, or absurd passageSir 
dut we do not take tial to be our office ;> — and just beg leaver 
on tlie contrary, to saj^, that any one who, on this account, 
would represent the whole poem os despicable, must either have 
no notion of poetry, or no regard to truth. 

It is, inAruth, at least as full of genius as of absurdity ; and 
be wlio does not find a great deal in it to admire and to give 
delight, cannot in his heart see much beauty in the two exqui- 
site dramas to which we have already alluded, or find any great 
pleasure in some of the finest creations of Milton and Shake** 
speare. There arc very many such persons, we verily believe, 
even among the reading and judicious part of the community- 
correct scholars we liave no doubt many of them^ and, it may be, 
very classical composers in prose and in verse — ^biit utterly ig- 
norant of the true genius of English poetry, and incapable of 
estimating its appropriate and most exquisite beauties. Witlr 
tliat spirit w'e have no hesitation in saying that Mr K. is deeply 
inibui^ — and of those beauties Ire has presented us witli m^nyr 
striking examples. Wc arc very much inclined indeed to add, 
that we do not know any book which we would sooner eqiploy 
as a test to ascertain whether any one had in him a iiativie re- 
lish (or poetry, and a genuine sensibility to its intrinsic charm, 
The greater and more dislingiiishctl poets of our country hava 
so much else in them to graiify other tastes and propensities,^ 
that they are pretty sure to captivate and amuse those to wliou^ 
their poetry is but an hindrance and obstruction, as w^ll as 
those to wlioni it constitutes their chief attraction. Thj^ intc^ 
rest of the stories they tell— the vivacity of the cliaractors UifjT 
delineate— the w eight and force of the maxims and, 
in which tliey abound — the very pathos ai«l wit and. buiuaur 
dicy display, which may all and each of them exist apart from 
their p4>etry and independent of it, are quite sufficient to ac- 
TOunt for their popularity, witliout rcfeiTing much , to that still 
higlier gift, by which they subdue to their cncltantments 
whose souls are attuned to the finer impulses of poeU»y« It -is 
only where those otlser recommendations are wanting, or exist 
in a weaker degree, that tlie true force of tlic attractioiu, ex-^ 
Noised by the pure poetry w^ith which they nre«.fiO;oftM com- 
binedycaii bo fairly appreciated — w'here, wutliout tmeh incidetii 
or many charactet*s, and with little wit^ wisdom, or nrriwge;iHentft 
» number of bright pictures are presicnlcd to the imagiuadQntf 


Keats’s Poem. 


nntl a fina filing depressed of those mvsterioiiS reMiolis 
wliich visible external oiings are assimilated widi inward thoo^ts 
and emotions, and become the images, and ex^kmeiits of alt 
passions and affections. To an unpoetioal reader such passagea 
always appear mere raving and absurdity^^and to this censure 
a very great part of the volume before ns will certainly be exr 
posed, w^ith this class of readers. Even in the judgm^t of a 
fitter audience, however, it must, we fear^ be admitted, that, be- 
sides the riot and extravagance of his fancy, the scope and sub- 
stance of Mr K/s poetry is rather too dreary and abstracted to 
excite the strongest interest, or to sustain the attention through 
a work of any great compass or extent* He deals too mudi 
with shadowy and incomprehensible beings, and is too coiistant- 
]y rapt into on extramundane Elysium, to command a lasting in- 
terest with ordinary mortals — and must employ the agency of 
more varied and coarser emotions, if he wishes to take rank 
with the seducing poets of this or of former generations* 
There is something very curious too, we think, in the way in 
which he, and Mr Barry Cornwall also, have dealt with the Pa- 
gan mytholog}^, of wliich they have made so much use in their 
poetry. Instead of presenting its imaginary persons under the 
trite and vulgar traits that belong to them in the ordinary sys- 
tems, little more is borrowed from these than the gettoi*ai con* 
cqition of their conditions and relations; and an original cha- 
racter and distinct individuality is bestowed upon them, which 
has all the merit of invention, and all the grace and attraction 
of the fictions on which it is engrafted. The antients, though 
they probably did not stand in any great awe of tlicir deities, 
have yet abstained very much from any minute or dramatic 
i*eprescntation of their feelings and affections. In Hesiod and 
Homer, they are coarsely delineated by some of tlicir actions and 
adventures, and introduced to us merely as the agents in those 
particular transactions ; while in the Hymns, from those ascribed 
to Orpheus and Homer, down to those of Callimachus, we have 
little out pompous epithets and invocations, with a flattering 
commemoration of their most famous exploits — and are never 
allowed to enter into their bosoms, or follow out the tmin of 
their feelings, with the presumption of our human sympathy^ 
Except the love-song of the Cyclops to bis Sea Nymph in Theo- 
critus — the Lamentation of Venus for Adonis in Mi^dius — and 
the more recent Legend of Apuleius, we scarcely recollect a 
passage in all the writings of antiquity in which the passions of 
an imiiiorial are fairly disclosed to the scrutiny and observation 
of men. 'ITie author before us, however, and some of liis con- 
temporaries, have dealt differently with the subject.;-^and, rfidk 



Keats^i Poems. 


tering the violence of the fiction under the ancient traditlonaiy 
ftbie, have cheated aixd imagined an entire new set of charac- 
ters, and brefugbt closely and minutely before us the loves and 
Borrows and perplexities of beinp, with whose names and super- 
natural attributes we had long been familiar, w^ithout any sense 
.or feeling oT their personal character. We have more than 
doubts of the fitness of such personages to maintain a perma- 
nent interest with the modern public ; — but the way in whicli 
they are here managed, certainly gives them the best chance 
that now remains for them; and, at all events, it cannot be denied 
that the raect is strilting and gracefnh But we mufel now pro- 
ceed to our extracts. 

The first of the volumes before us is occupied with the ImTs 
of Endymion and Diana — which it w^oiild not be very easj^, and 
which we do not at all intend to analyze in detail. In the be- 
ginning of the poem, however, the Shepherd Prince is repro-’ 
sente^l as having had strange visions and delirious interviews 
with an unknoum and celestial beauty ; soon after which, he is 
called on to preside at a festival in honour of Pan; and his aj'- 
pearance hi the procession is tlius described. 

< His youth was fully blown, 

Showing like Ganymede to manhood grown ; 

Aiul, for those simple times, his garments were 
A chieftain king’s ; beneath his breast, half bare. 

Was hung a silver bugle, and between 
His nervy knees there lay a boar-spear keen. 

A smile was on his countenance ; he seem’d, 

To common lookers on, like one who dream'd 
Of idleness in groves Elysian : 

But there were some who feelingly could scan 
A lurking trouble in his nether lip, 

And see that oftentimes tlie reins would slip 
Tlirough his forgouen hauda. * pp. 1 1, 12. 

There is then a choral hymn addres^ to the ajdvatt deity, 
which appears to us to be mil of beauty; and reminds us, in 
many places, of the finest strmns of %c3ian or English poetry. 
A part of it is as follows. 

* O THOU, whose mighty palabe tooFdoth hang 
From jagged trunks, mid overshadoareth 
Etemu wtiispers, glooms, the birth, Ufo, death 
Of unseen fiowets in heavy peacefulness ; 

Who lov’at to see the hamadryads dress 
Tbehr ruffled locks where meeting hazels darken ; 

And through whole solemn homo dost ait, and hearken 
The dreary melody of bedded reeds — 

In ^solate places, where dank moisture breeds 
The pipy hcndock to strange overgrowth.— 

iiW Pdmi4 

O 4br wbpitMatl^iMllnQg quiet;, ttuthtif 
Fafision l^r Toicea cooingiy ’moug myrtles, 

What time Aon wtiudereet at eventide ; 

Through sunny meadoirs, that outskirt the side 
Of tiiine eomossed refdms : O thou, to whom 
Broad leaved fig trees even now foredoom 
Thdr ripen’d fruitage ; yellow girted bees 
Their golden honeycombs ; our Village leas 
Their fairest l^ossom’d beans and poppied corn ; 

The chuckling linnet its five young unborn, 

To sing for thee ; low creeping strawberries ^ 

Their summer coolness ; pent up butterflies 
Their freckled wings ; yea, the fresh budding year 
All its completions— ^be quickly near, 

By every wind that nods the mountain pine, 

O forester divine ! 

Thou, to whom every fawn and satyr flies 
For willing service ; whetlier to surprise 
The squatted hare while in half sleeping flt ; 

Or upward ragged precipices flit 

To save poor lambkins from tlie eagle's maw ; 

Or by mysterious enticement draw 
Bewildered shepherds to their path again ; 

Or to tread breathless round the frothy main. 

And gather up all fancifuliest shells 
For thee to tumble into Naiads’ cells, 

And, being hidden, laugh at iiieir out-peeping ; 

Or to delight thee with fantastic leaping, 

Tlie while tliey pelt each otlier on the crown 
With silvery oak apples, and fir cones brown — 

By all the echoes that about thee ring, 

Hear us, O satyr king ! 

O Hearkener to the loud clapping shears. 

While ever and anon to his Shorn peers 
A ram goes bleating : Winder of the horn, 

When snouted wild-boars routing tender com 
Anger our huntsman : Breather, round our farnts. 

To keep off mildews, and all weather harms : 

Strang ministrant of undescribed sounds, 

That feom'e a swooning over hollow grounds, 

And wither drearily on barren moors. ” ’ pp. i 14*^1 17. 

Thtj enamoured youtlj sinks into insensibility in the midst of 
^he solemnity, and is borne apart and revived by the care of 
Ilia sister; and, opening his heavy eyes in htr arms^ my % — 

< I feel this thine endearing love 
All tlirough my bosom : thou art as a dove 
Trembling its closed eyes and sleeked wings 
About me ; and the peariicst dew not brings" ^ 

Ml^*s Biuml 


Sudi the fiel^ of May»^ - ", 

As do those drops that twinkling stray ^ 

Frmn^those kiod e^- Then think not ^ou 
That/apy longer, Ji will pass my days 
Alone and sad. No, I will once more raise 
My voice upim the mountain-heights ; once more < 

Make my hora parley from their foreheads hoar : 

Again my trooping hounds their tongues shall loll 
Around the breathed boar : agmn I'll poll 
The fair-grown yew tree, for a chosen bow : 

And, when the pleasant sun is getting low, 

' A|^ain I'll linger in a sloping mead 

To hear the speckled thrusl^, and sec feed 
Our idle sheep. So be thou cheered sweet. 

And, if thy lute is here, softly intreat 
My soul to keep in its resolved course. '* 

* Hercat Peona, in their silver source, 

Shut her pure sorrow drops with glad exclaim, , • 

And took a lute, from which there pulsing camd 
A lively prelude, fashioning the way 
In which her voice should wander. 'Twas a lay 
More subtle cadenced, more forest wild 
Than Dryope's lone lulling of her child ; 

And nothing since has floated in the air 
So mournful strange. * pp. 25-27. 

He then tells her all the story of his love and madness; and 
is afterwards led away by butterflies to the haunts of Naiads, 
and by them sent down into enchanted caverns, where he sees 
Venus and Adonis, and great flights of Cupids, and wanders 
over diamond terraces among beautiful fountains and temples 
and statues, and all sorts of fine and strange things. All this 
is very fantastical : But there are splendid pieces ot* description, 
and a sort of wild richness on the whole. We cull a few little 
morsels. This is the picture of the sleeping Adonis. 

‘ In midst of all, there lay a sleeping youth 
Ctf fondest beauty. Sideway his face repos'd 
On one white arm, and tenderly unclos'd, 

By tenderest pressure, a faint damask mouth 
.To slumbery pout ; just as the morning south 
Disparts a dew-lipp'd rose. Above his head, 

Four lily stalks did their white honours wed 
To make a coronal ; and round him grew 
All tendrils green, of every bloom and hue, 

Together intertwin'd and trammel'd fresh : 

The vine of glossy sprout; the ivy mesh, 

Shading its Ethiop berries ; and wooefoine, 

Of velvet leaves and bugle-blooms divine. 
yoL. xx3trv. no, 67. O 


Keuts's Poeinis* 


Hard by, 

Stood sen^ne Cupids watching silendy. 

Onp, kneeling to a lyre, touch’d the strings, 

Muffling to death the pathos with his wings ; ' 

And, ever and anon, uprose to look 
At the youth's slumber ; while another took 
A willow- bough, distilling odorous dew, 

And -hook it on his hair; another dew 
In through the woven roof, and fiuttering-wise 
Rain’d violets upon his sleeping eye& ’ pp. 72, 73* 

Ther<‘ U another and more classical sketch of Cybele. 

^ Forth from a rugged arjch, in the dusk below, 'v 
Came mother Cybele ! alone — alone — 

In sombre chariot ; dark foldings thrown 
About her majesty and front death-pale. 

With turrets crown'd. Four maned lions hale 
The sluggish wheels ; solemn their toothed maws, 

Their surly eyes brow-hidden, heavy paws 
Uplifted drowsily, and nervy tails 
Cowering their tawny brushes. Silent sails 
This shadowy queen athwart, and faints away 
In another gloomy arch. ' p. 83. 

In the midst of all these spectacles, he has, we do not very 
well know how, a ravishing interview with his unknown god- 
dess ; and, when she melts away from him, he finds himself in 
a vast grotto, where he overhears the courtship of Alpheus and 
Arethusa, and, as they elope together, discovers that the grotto 
has disappeared, and tliat he is at the bottom of thq sea, under 
the transparent arches of its naked waters. The following is 
abundantly extravagant; but comes of no ignoble lineage, nor 
ahames its high descent. 

* Fm* had he roam’d, 

With nothing save the hollow vast, that foam’d 
Above, around, and at his feet ; save things 
More dead than Morpheus' imaginings : 

Old rusted anchors, helmets, breast- plates large 
Of gone sea warriors ; brazen beaks and targe ; 

Rudders that for a hundred years had lost 

The sway of human hand ; gold vase emboss'd 

With long -forgotten story, and wherein 

No reveller had ever dipp’d a chin 

But those of Saturn’s vintage ; mouldering scrolls. 

Writ in the tongue of heaven, by those souls 
Who first were on the earth ; and sculptures rude 
In ponderous stone, developing the mood 
Of ancient Nox then skeletons of man, 

Of beast, behemoth, andj^mthan, 



'Keai^s PoevtS, 


And elephant, and eagle, and huge jaw 
Of* nameless nionater. ' p. 111. 

There he* finds antient Glaucus enchanted by Ciree^hears 
his wild story — and goes with him to the deliverance and re- 
storation of thousands of drowned lovers, whose bodies were 
piled and stowed away in a large submarine palace. When 
this feat is happily performed, he finds himself again on dry 
ground, with woods and waters around him ; and cannot help 
felling desperately in love with a beautiful damsel whom he 
finds there pining for some such consolations, and who tells a 
long stojfy of her having come from India in the train of Bao 
chus, and having strayed away from him into thatforest : — so they 
vow eternal fidelity, and are wafted up to heaven on dying hors- 
es, on which they sleep and dream among the stars; — and then 
the lady melts away, and he is again alone upon the earth ; but 
soon rejoins his Indian love, and agrees to give up his goddess, 
and live only for her : But she refuses, and says she is resolvcid 
to devote herself to the service of Diana ; and when she goes 
to dedicate herself, she turns out to be the goddess in a new 
shape, and exalts her lover witli her to a blest immoitality. 

We have left ourselves room to say but little of the second 
volume, which is of a more miscellaneous character. Lamia is 
a Greek antique story, in the measure and taste of Endymion. 
Isabella is a paraphrase of die same tale of Boccacio, which 
Mr Cornwall has also imitated under the title of ^ a Sicilian 
Story. * It would be worth while to compare the two imita* 
tions ; but we have no longer time for such a task. Mr K. has 
followed his original more closely, and has given a deep pathos 
to several of his stanzas. The widowed briae’s discovery of the 
murdered body is very strikingly given. 

* Soon she turn’d up a soiled glove, whereon 
Her silk had play'd in purple phantasies. 

She kiss’d it with a lip more chill than stone. 

And put it in her bosom, where it dries. 

Then ’gan she work again ; nor stay’d her care. 

But to throw back at times her veiUng hair. 

That old nurse stood beside her wondering. 

Until her heart felt pity to the core 
At sight of such a dismal labouring. 

And so she kneeled, with her locks all hoar, 

And put her lean hands to the horrid thing : 

Three hours they labour'd at this travail sore ; 

At last they felt the kernel of the grave, Ac. 

In anxious sedrecy they took it home, 

And then the prize was all for Isabel : 

She calm’d its wild hair with a golden ccmb. 

And all around each eye's sepulchral cell 


KeatftV Pdemt* 


Pointed eaeli fringed the meered loam 
With tears, b» diUly as a dripping well. 

She drench'd away : — and still she comb'd, and/kept 
Sighing all day— and still she kiss'd, and wept* 

Then in a silken scarf,— «weet with the dewi 
Of precious flowers pluck'd in Araby, 

And divine liquids come with odorous ooze 
Through the coid serpent-pipe refreshfully,— • 

She wrapp'd it up ; and for its tomb did choose 
A gardc'n pot, wherein she la d it by, 

And cover'd it with mould, and o'er it set \ 

Sweet Basil, which her tears kept ever wet* * pp. 72-75* 
The followin^r lines troin an oclo to a Nightingale^ are equal- 
ly distinguished for hfirmony and feeling. 

* O for a beaker full of the warm South, 

Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, 

With beaded bubbles winking at the brim. 

And purple* stained mouth ; 

That 1 might drink, and leave the world unseen. 

And vrith thee fade away into the forest dim ; 

Fade far away, dis»olve, and quite forget 

What thou among the leaves hast never known, 

The weariness, the fever, and the fret 

Here, v\here men sit and hear each other groan ; 

Where palsy shakes a Tew, sad, last grey hairs. 

Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; 

Where bat to think is to be full of sorrow 
And leaden eyed despairs. 

The voice 1 hear this parsing night was heard 
In ancient dayi* by emperor and clown : 

Perhaps the self-same song that found a pith 

Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for homci 
She stood in tears amid the ahen corn ; 

The same that oft-times hath 
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam 

Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. ' p« 108-111. 

We must close our extracts with the following lively lines to 

< O •sweet Fancy ! let her loose ; 

Summer’s joys arc -^poih by use, 

And the enjoying of the Spring 
Fades as does itn blossoming ; 

Autumn's ri^sl-lipp'd fruitage too, 

Blushing through the inist and dew, 

Cloys with tasting : What do then ? 

Sir ihee by the ingle, when ^ 

The sear faggot blazes bright*, 

Spirit of a wmier’s night ; 

1820 . 



When the soundless earth is muffled^ 

And tht: caked snow is shufHed 
Prom the plouyhboy’s heavy shoon ; 

When the Nig’u dr»th meet the Noon 
In a dark conspiracy 
To banish Even from her sky* 

• — . — Thtf»u shalt hear 

Distant harvest cr.rols clear ; 

Bustle of the re »ped corn ; 

Sweet birds antheming the mom t 
And, in the same moment-— hark I ^ 

'Tis the early April lark. 

Or the rooks, with busy caw. 

Foraging for sticks and straw, 

Th( u shall, at one glance, behold 
The daisy And rtie mari|{old ; 

White- plum'd lilies, and the first 
Hedge-grown primrose that hath burst ; 

Shaded hyacinth, alway 
Sapphire queen of the mid-May ; 

And every leaf, and every Sower 
Pearled with the self same shower. 

Thou shall see the field mouse peep 
Meagre from its celled sleep ; 

And the snake all winter thin 
Case on sunny bank its skin ; 

Freckled nest-eggs thou shall see 
Hatching in the hawthorn- tree, 

When the hen-bird’s wing doth rest 
Quiet on her mossy nest ; 

Then the hurry and alarm 
When the bee-hive casts its swarm ; 

Acorns ripe down- pattering, 

While the autumn breezes sing, ’ pp, 122^125. 

There is a fragment of a projected Epic, entitled ‘ Hyperion/ 
on the expulsion of Saturn and the Tiinnian deities by Jupiter 
and his younger adherents, of which we cannot advise the 
completion: For, though there are passages of t-oine force and 
grandeur, it is sufficiently obvious, from the speciiiK ii befo re 
us, that the subject is too far removed from all the t^ourm* of 
human interest, to be successfully treated by any modem au- 
thor. Mr Keats has unquestionably a very bcvuitilul iniagi /a- 
tion, and a great familiarity with tlie finest diction of English 
poetry ; but he must learn not to misuse or misap}dy these ^*d• 
vantages; and neither lo waste the goed gifts ot nature and 
study on intractable themes, nor to luxuriate too rcwklcs^dy on 
•ach as are more suitable. 


The Pl<m of Education for England. ‘Auft* 

Art. XI. JS55ii^ pn the Evils of Popular Jgtiormcc. By 
John Foster, ^vo. ,pp. 317 . London, Holdsfrorlli, 1820 . 

nPHE subject upon which we are now about to enter, has al- 
ways appeared to us not only to be in itself of the greatest 
and most pertiianent importance of any which we have ever 
considered, but as that upon which it is most essential that right 
notions should be entertained by every class of the community. 
The question is a# to the best practical means of Promoting the 
Education of the body of the People — in other worth, ot im- 
proving, and in manv cases, we might say, creating, the reli- 

S 'ous, the moral, and intellectual character of the nation. To 
is it is manifest that every other improvement is necessarily and 
intrinsically subordinate. Our individual enjoyments and our 
national ])rospcrity— our freedom and our loyalty — our peace 
and our plenty — our comforts and our renown— all obviously 
depend upon the rank which we may be enabled to hold as ra- 
tional and moral beings ; and our eternal as well as our tem- 
poral concerns must be mainly affected, in so far as human 
means are concerned, by the tenor of our early instructions. 
We most earnestly entreat all our readers, therefore, to favour 
us with their patient attention, in the exposition we arc now to 
make ; and seriously to consider, w’hether an opportunity has 
not now arisen, of conferring a greater practical benefit on the 
country than was ever in its choice before, and whether any 
man can be excused for withholding his countenance and sup- 
port from the plans that have now been so nearly matured for 
that purpose. , 

The great diflSculty arose, as was foreseen from tlie begin- 
ning, from the mutual jealousy of the Established Church and 
the Dissenters ; and our apprenensions of misconduct were cer- 
tainly long directed towards the former. Its chiefs, however, 
have ultimately made the most liberal concessions ; and the Le- 

S islature is ready to sanction a scheme, to which we sincerdy 
link no reasonable objection can now be stated. Some ^ th^ 
Pissenters, however, are understood not to be satisfied ; and it is 
from them only that any serious opposition to the scheme is now 
to be apprehended. Wc shall consider their objections by and 
by but, in the outset, we may be permitted to claim for onr- 
selves the credit that is due to the unvarying, fearless, and zealous 
Hi^yocates of religious independence, and entire freedom of^n- 
jjcience and of worship. The members of our own National feta^ 
MiAment are Dissenters from the Church of England ; Mid, to i 
f-hi. very controversy mi thp subject of education, to w its atagwy- 


1820. The New Plan of Education for England 

^ as well as upon every other question, our readers must be aware 
that we have uniformly taken the side of the Dissenters, and 
fought theii battles with equal zeal and constancy. We trust# 

. therefore, that our decided and deliberate opinions will have some 
weight with them, even where they differ from those of some of 
their less temperate advisers ; and think that we may reckon, at 
fill events, upon a candid and favourable consideration of the 
reasons by which alone we wish to secure their adoption. We 
shall now proceed, therefore, to detail, as clearly and concisely 
as possible, the measures to whicli we have alluded, and the na- 
ture anfi result of the views and inquiries on which they are 
grounded. We have purposely delayed the cmisideration of 
this great subject, till the Plan, in its matured shape, should be 
brought before Parliament by Mr Brougham. This has now 
been effected ; the plan has been formally introduced and ex- 
pounded ; the Bills in which it is embodied have been read a 
second time, committed and reported, with the blanks filled up ; 
and the further consideration of them having been adjourned# 
for the express purpose of allowing the country to consider and 
to discuss them, we arc naturally called upon to exercise the 
privilege that belongs to us. 

The inquiries ot the Education Committee have laid the 
foundation of this plan. Our readers are aware, that Queries 
were addressed by that body to all the parociiial clergy of Eng- 
land and Wales, resecting tlie state of Education in each pa- 
rish and chapelry. Their answers were given with an alacrity 
and fullness, which, both in the Report of the Committee, and 
in Mr Brougham’s observations in the House of Commons# 
have been largely commended. So ready was their compliance 
with the requisition of the Committee, that the Chairman states 
him.self to nave received between two and three tliousand let- 
ters ill one day. From time to time new questions were pro- 
posed, and further information obtained. The defective re- 
turns were thus supplied in a great degree, and all obscurities 
explained. A vast mass of information being thus obtained# it 
was digested with great diligence and care. The unremitting 
labour of two years, has now produced the large printed 
volumes which embody the substance of the information re- 
specting England ; a third volume, of smaller size, being near- 
ly reaoy for delivery, and comprising Scotland and Wales. 
The Scotch part of the Inquiry naturally required locid assist- 
ance ; and the General Assembly of our Church, in compliance 
with the request of the Committee, appointed a committee, at 
the head of which was Principal Baird, to aid the Investigation 
by a correspondoice with the Scottish clergy# in addition to the 

9Jt6 The Um Plan (f Education far England. Aag« 

correspondence carried on by the Committee, The Scotch re** 
turnh vcre then digested in the Committee, to which tliey were ' 
communicated by die Reverend Principal, accompeJiied by his 
own valuable, remarks. It is understood that he hlso assisted 
in the work of digesting these returns ; although the accuracy 
of the work rests entirely upon the original documents them- 
selves, v^ h’ch were all transmitted to London. 

It is impossible to deny the grpat value of the work thus com- 
pleted. As a Statistical document it is in some d^ee new 
m its kind ; for, instead of mere dry figures, it contains a mw 
of the state of society, and of the moral state of tlie peonle. It 
is a complete chart of the Education of the Island, in all its es- 
sential particulars. The construction of it may be shortly de- 
scribed — Each county has a Digest and a Table. The Digest 
contains the substance of the Parochial returns, arranged under 
three heads — die particulars relating to endtmmenfs for edu- 
cation — Sd, those relating to other institutions, or unendowed 
schools — and, Sd, general observations on the state of the people in 
respect of education and matters connected with it. There are 
two other columns added — one giving the names of the Parishes 
in alphabetical order — the other giving the Population of each. 
The Table is extracted from the Digest^ and consists of as much 
of it as can be reduced to a strictly tabular or numerical form. 
It differs in its construction for England and Wales — and for 
Scotland. Tlie Table for English and Welsh counties, con- 
sists of four divisions or great columns — each subdivided into 
smaller columns. The divisions are, 1. Parishes or Cliapelries 
— ^and this is subdivided into three columns ; one for the alpha- 
betical list of Parishes^ with their Cliapelries^ another for the 
Population^ and a third for the Poor of each parish and chapelry. 
2. Endowments — subdivided into three columns; one for the 
number of the endowments in each ecclesiastical district, another 
for the number of children educated by each, and a third for 
die revenue of each. 3. Unendowed Day schools — subdivided 
into two columns ; one for die number of such schools, another 
for the children educated at each. 4. Unendowed Sunday 
Schools, subdivided into two columns for the same purposes as 
the division of Day schools. The Scotch Tables are differendy 
constructed. The first division is the same as in the Englisn 
Tables, and is subdivided in the same manner. But there are 
four oAer divisions— 1. Schools supported by Mortifications, 
that is, gifts in Mortmain — subdivided into tnree columns for 
numbers, children, and revenue. 2. Parochial Schools, subdi- 
vided in like manner. 3. Unendowed Day Schools — subdivid- 
ed into four classes^ and each class into two columns;, one of 

1320. The Ne^ Plan if Education for England^ 21T 

numbers of schools, the other of numbers of children. — The 
classes are, Society Schools — Diune Schools — Ordinary Schools 
—and Totals of the preceding three classes. 4. Sunday Schools 
—subdivided into two columns for numbers and children. In 
the Scotch Tables, there are no marks of reference; in the 
English aiyl Welsh, there arc three of importance — one indi- 
cating that, beside the sum given, the endowment has other pro- 
perty not specified, or which cannot be valued in money — ano- 
ther that the school in question is a Dame school — a third, that 
the school in qiu'stion is one either upon the National plan, or 
the plaq»of the British and Foreign School Society. 

The reader will at once pcixeivc how completely this Digest 
with its Tables must exhaust the subject, and present a picture 
of the? state and tlie means of education in general and in de- 
tail ; lor the whole Island, and for each even the smallest pa- 
rish and chapeirv in it — and of the education in ail its branchefs, 
and in every point of view in which it may be regarded. It 
should be further observed, that these volumes contain the sub- 
stance also of the two great volumes, the Population Returns 
and the Poor Abstract, as far as relates to the number of peo- 
ple and of poor in each ecclesiastical district. Indeed it fur- 
nishes a statemeiit not to be gathered from those other works 
without much labour, namely, a corrected statement of the in- 
habitants and poor ibr each of the ecclesiastical subdivisions; it 
is the first work in which the population of each chapelry has 
been assigned ; indeed no former w'ork ever gave even the par- 
ticular townships of each chapelry, and the townships of those 
parts of the parishes not included in the limits of the subordi- 
nate chapelries. 

Beside the Digest and Table of each County in the Island, 
two General Tablets are added, containing the Totals of the 
Cmiiities in one view — but in a more complete subdivision. If 
we add the General Totals for all England, it will more satis- 
factorily show the construction of th(»se Tables. The first re- 
lates to numbers educated: — And the Total is as follows — ^the im- 
perfect returns having been filled up by calculating from the 
complete ones. 

Grand Totals or General Result ^ a Tablc^ shoeing the State 
of Education in England. 

Population in 1811 - 9,543,610 
Poor - ill 1815 - 853,249 

218 The JViffW Tlan of Education far En^and. Attg^ 
Endcmed Schooh. 

Number of new hchools * - S02 

of children educated there - 39^590 

of ordinary schools - 51,865 

— ■■■- of children there - 125,813 

Totals — Number of schools - 4,167^ 

of children 105,433 

Revenue - L. 300,525 

Unmdonced Day Schools. 

Number of new schools - 82f> 

children - - 105,582 

dame schools - 3, 102 

— children - 53,624 

— ordinary schools 10,360 

children - - 319,643 

Totals — Number of schools - 14,282 
of children 478,849 

Sunday Schools. 

Number of new schools - - 40-1 

— children - - 50,979 

— ordinary schools - 4,75 h 

— children - • 401,838 

Totals — Number of schools - 5,i62 

children 452,817 

Hie Second General Table gives the proportion of children 
taught gratuilmisly and paying for education ; and this table is 
extracted from the detiiils contained in the Digests of the dif- 
ferent counties — the former table being deduced from the differ- 
ent tables. , The grand total for England, in tliis Second table, 

is as follows. 

Endowments . — Free scholars - 145,952 

Pay scholars •• - 19,481 

Total - - 165,433 

Vnendoused Day-schools — Free scholars 168,064 

Pay scholars 3 1 0,785 
Total - - 478,849 

Total free scholars 329,518 

— • pay scholars 321,764 

Total taught 644,282 

* On the National, and British and Foreign Plan. 

The Plan of Education Jhr Enghf^* 219 

We have been favoured widi the following statement of the 
totals for Scotland, 

Endowed*schoolsj including parochial schools • 

Where there arc taught - - 6.5,533 

UnendoY^red day schools, including society schools 2,412 
Where tliere are taught - - 1 10,770 

Total schools - 3,556 

children - 176,303 

— or about Jth less than ^^^th of the whole poj)ulation of Scot- 
land. }iut the returns for Edinburgh and the Islands arc ex- 
tremely defective, so that the aver;ige is certniniy rather above 
j\-,th, as is stated by Mr Brougham. Of tlie endowed schools 
above given, 267 are not parochial ; of tlic unendowed, 202 arc 
society schools, and 205 darne schools. The Sunday schools 
amount to 687, and are attended by 49,285. * 

It is upon the mass of information contained in this Digest, 
and in these Tables, that the Plan for National Education, 
which we arc now to consider, has been constructed ; and as, in 
the course of the argument respcclir.g its merits, we shall bo 
constantly obliged to ai)})eal to this work, it was necc&saiy to 
begin by explaining its nature and arr.mgemcnt. 

Among the topics which we think may now safely be passed 
over in entering upon this thsciissitMJ, the bcncliu of Education 
must be reckoned as one. Happily the season seems gone by 

* A most absurd statement has lately appeared in the newspapers, 
purport! nji to be a return up to Map last of the schools in England 
and Wales. No such return has been, or could have been made to 
Parliament ; and this statement seems, from internal evidence, to be 
a concealed advertisement of a Book, which it mentions as used in 
3682 schools. By this statement it is pretended that there are above 
37,000 schools, taught by above 56,UCK) teachers, and attended by 
above a million and a half of children — consequently, that every hu- 
man being in the kingdom above sixteen years old can read, the 
least ; nay, that tliere are 7520 schools where French is taught, and 
3327 where Greek and Latin are taught ; or, in other words, the Eng- 
lish are so accomplished, that every third person speaks French, and 
so learned that every sixth person reads the classics. This fabrica- 
tion, we must in justice add, cannot for a moment be supposed to 
have been made for the purpose of helping the arguments urged a- 
gainst the New Plan ; for it represents the Church Catechism as used 
in 22,583 schools ; or, in other w'ords, that nine milltons and a half, 
that is, nearly the whole population, belong to the Church. So 
much for this statement ; which^ whatever be its origiDi is suificientiy 
discreditable to its authors* 

$20 T^e Ne>w Man of Edumiiofijbr Migfaki. 

for ever, when men couW be found capable of denying, in a ci- 
vilized nation, the poiirv of diffusing knowledge among the peo- 
ple. It is not indecnl above twelve or thirteen years since some 
eminent persons tbiis lingered behind the times in which they 
lived ; and, th<mgh giftecl with genius to go before their age, 
preferrt'd the doubtful fame of displaying ingenuity in support 
of an absurd paradox, — lavishing their eloquence in extolling the 
wsefulne^^s and safety of darkness in the most enlightened period 
of histoiy, as their predecessors among the luxurious Romans, 
but, in the decline of Latin taste, had employed their Rhetor 
rick in making the? panegyrick of rudeness and barbarity- But 
the case is now wholly changed ; no persons, or next to none, 
have openly denied the policy, and even the duty, of Educating 
the people. If any still doubt it m their hearts, they are now 
£iin to conceal their scruples, and, we suspect, will rather be 
found to oppose the measures in ctmtemplation, by objecting to 
their details, than by attacking their principle. This great and 
salutar}’ change deserves to be marked in passing; and relieves 
trs from all necessity of tulding any thing to ine observations 
which wc have formerly made upon the more general view's of 
the question. 

Another remark of a preliminary nature must be added. 
Some w^orthy persons, how deeply soever they may be impress- 
ed with the importance of universal Education, are dispr sed to 
fprestion the expediency of Government interfering with the In- 
struction of the people, and that on two grounds: — They are 
suspicious of Government, and afraid of entrusting it with so 
powerful an engine of authority and influence; and they rely 
upon the general maxim of modern policy, which prescribes the 
rule of leaving the concerns of the people as much as possible 
to their own care. Now', we conceive that both these objec- 
tions to a system of National Instruction countenanced and sup- 
ported by the State, are founded upon most fallacious grounds 
—-and we shall take them in their order. 

1. Aflmitting that a superintendence of the education of youth 
were likely to give the Government some increase of influence, 
it would by no means follow that this price was not a cheap 
one for the benefit purchased, unless it were shown that any 
other means existed of securing the same benefit ; and tliis con- 
sideration belongs to the other head of the argument. Art 
established religion and endowed church certainly arms tlie civjl 
magistrate with no small power — power wholly foreign to tho 
purposes of supporting a hierarchy, and only arising incident 
tally out of means necessary for accomplishing diose pur- ^ 
posesr The eiqpediency of such an establiwuwil haa accord- * 


Tie Ntm Plan ef Education for England. 2Ti 

itiglj been denied by many, who had never witnessed^ or not dulj 
redeoted upon the nit^nberlese evils of unlimited fanaticism, and 
the great risjcs of the people receiving no religious instruction^ 
. or at least such instruction as could hardly lead to any religioi&s 
improvement, were they left entirely to the tuition of their owat 
idpendiaries, at all seasons of private and of publick fortunesA 
* But no man has ever denied the advantages, nriy the necessity 
of providing for the administration of justice; and yet it may 
safely be affirmed, that the Judicial estabiishinent of a State, in 
the present liberaUminded age, furnishes as much of what Mr 
Bentham terms the * Matter qfLifincnce * to its government, as 
the hierarchy itself: For we believe that Lawyers have, in most 
^lightened countries, succeeded to no little portion of the sway 
once enjoyed by their pretfecessors, the Priests. But there is 
another and a most important c«rcnmstance to be taken into 
consideration. Not only may checks be devised which shall con^^ 
trol the interference of the Government, and confine its operation 
within certain limits; but the priiici]Kd portion of the influence 
thus acquired U over the nriuds of chiltlren, whose ripened un- 
derstandings will easily shake it off, if indeed time docs not si- 
lently efface its impression: an<l above all it is never to be for- 
gotten, that the natural effect of the system is to increase, be- 
yond all calculation, the power and energy of the people gene- 
rally, and especially to furnish, in each individual instance, the 
very antidote most adu})ted to coubteract any tendency which 
the mode of tuition might have, unfriendly to perfect independ- 
ence. All considerations of patronage being put out of view for 
the present, because means may be devised of removing any 
such dangers, it seems obvious the one hand, that no very 
great harm can result from the Government, or the establish- 
ments connected with it, generally superintending the manner 
in which the first riidinients of learning shall be conveyed to 
children ; and, on the othvr, that the progress of popular im- 
provement will, by the great and certain supply of iiistruciioii 
thus obtained, be so accelerated as indirectly to counteract a far 
greater weight than can ever be gained by Government through 
the direct operation of such a cause. Let the people but read 
and write and cipher, and they mu>t think for themselves : and it 
would, in our humble opinion, be quite as unreasonable to com- 
plain of the power wliich the superintendence of their education 
may give to their rulers, as to l>e alarmed at the chance of their 
knomedge leading them into habits of insubordination. Such 
fears on the part of the Governors have now happily been re- 
> moved. It will argue verv little for the good sjpiise of the go* 
vornedi if wy oon^erable portion <d them fall a victim to the 


222 TAe Nim Plan Educatiwijbr Ef^land. A^g:. 

opposite alarm, and still less for their candour, if they make aii 
outcry of tliis^description widiout really feeling the alarm. 

2. The other objection to Goyernnient interfering, rests upon 
a plain misconception or perversion of the principle which it 
professes to proceed from. Nor are similar errors at all uncom- 
mon among shallow and half^read economists, in dealing with 
that principle. It is indeed one of the evils which have flowed 
from its great simplicity and easy application. Before the time 
when the science of political economy was purified and simpli- 
fied by the labours of the French theorists and of our country- 
men Hume and Smith, a considerable stock of learning, and a 
great familiarity with details, was required to set up as a politi- 
cal speculator. When the diange took place, which was found 
mainly to consist in rejecting the oflicious interference of the 
Government with men’s private concerns as useless, or repudi- 
ating it as pernicious, every sciolist who had turned over a few 
pages of the great works where this principle is unfolded with 
infinite practical knowledge and much nice limitation and qua- 
lification, thought he w’^as at once master of the whole science, 
and could settle all questions belonging to it, l>y merely saying, 
if a Frenchman, ‘ Laisser^fluire* — and if an Englishman, ‘ Leaint 
things^ io themselves, ’ How many persons have we heard thus 
disposing of all nice matters of national polity by crying out, 
‘ Adam &nithj ’ — and adding, ‘ things mll^find /her level ’ — ^per- 
sons who had no knowledge of things, and hardly knew what 
level meant ! 

But the same error has pervaded men considerably aboA'e 
this description of shallow talkers. The first province and 
proper office of the doctrine in <juestion has not been suffi- 
ciently regarded ; still less has it been observed with what ma- 
terial guards and modifications its original patrons always pro- 
mulgated it. This principle originally was never meant to ejt- 
tend further than to tlie laws by which capital is distributed 
and accumulated. Its im})ort w%as, that every man being the 
best judge of his own interest, and that interest being necessa- 
rily the same with the interest of the community, as far as the aug- 
mentation of national wealth is concerned, the State ought to 
leave the employment of his industry, skill, and capital, as much 
as possible to himself, both because he has a right to chuse for 
himself in this resj)ect, and because he will in general make a far 
better choice for himselfi that is, also for the stale, than the state 
can make for him. But neither Adam Smith, nor any one else 
whose authority is worth mentioning, ever dreamt of prescrib- 
ing Uie same neutrality and abstinence to the Government Upon 
all matters of publick concernment. On tlie contrary, they all 
admitted very ample beads of exception, even to the application 

1S20« Tlie New Pldn of Education for England. 

of the rule as far as regards capital itself. Smith, as is' well 
known, went so for as to approve of the Usury laws, althongb 
Benthani has since most satisfactorily erased this chapter from 
the catalogue of excepted cases; but the Navigation La;w of 
'England, and indeed of Holland, has never been allowed to be 
absolutely founded on false principles, although it be by far the 
.widest deviation from the general rule ever made, and in a mat- 
ter of the greatest importance. The excuse given for it by Dr 
Smith seems still to be admitted, that there are other tilings 
which deserve our care beside the increase of wealth, and that 
defence more important than riches. This seems to satisfy 
men’s minds that the Navigation Law was beneficial at the time, 
although unquestionably we have adhered to it long after it had 
ceased to do any thing but mischief in every way. 

But who ever dreamt of canying the principle so far as the 
persons do with whom we are at present contending ? They 
might as well talk of leaving the settlement of disputes between 
individuals, to the private settlement, the domestic forum^ of ar- 
bitration. They might contend that the demand for justice, like 
every thing else, would produce a sufficient supply of the article ; 
Uiat all the useless machinery of civil courts might thus be dis- 
pensed with, its attendant pati'onage taken from the govern- 
ment, and its heavy expense saved to the people; and that 
the only necessary interference here, would be ^ compulsory 
process to (;onipei appearance and execution. Then, why the 
crowds of lawyers that blacken the gates of Themis’s temples ? 
Why degrees in the Civil, and Canon, and Common law ? Why 
not let every man conduct causes before tJie arbitrators — as 
tlierc is no fear of suitors employing bad counsel, any more 
than unskilful and unjust referees. 

An hundred such instances miglit be added ; But upon this 
matter of education let Adam Smith be heard for himself. In 
bis Fiftli Book, he expressly devotes one Pait of the three into 
W'hich the Chapter upon the Expenses of tlie State is divided, 
to the subject of Public Works and Institutions ; the other two 
discuss the defence of the nation and administration of justice ; 
and of the third Part, one artide, md a very leading one, is, 
* Of the Expeuse of Lmtitidions ^fbr the Education of' Youth. * 
In handling tliis subject, he displays great learning, and his 
accustomed sound sense. He shows very clearly how tlie 
work of education has often been marred by the mismanage- 
ment of the Government, and how many branches of learning 
, might be better taught by private encouragement. But this 
remark is only applicable to diose accomplishn^nts for which 
Wi^tjiy furnnm the chief d^and. He never for a mo-; 
. inent supposes that the poor could be expected either to sock 

S24 The Nm Plan of Educatkmfor Et^ani* Aug* 

or to find the means of instruction in the mere elements of 
knowled^e^ without any aid from the State. Nay, he goes ftnr« 
ther, and prc^poaes that .a natimial education should not only be 
provided Slate, but that means should be taken ibr com- 

pelllng the people to take advantage of it. ^ For a veiy mall 
f >expmse^ (says he,) the public can facilitate — can encourage— « 

^ ana can even impose upon alpiost the uikole body (f the people • 
^ .die necessity of acquiring those most essential parts of educa- 
♦;tion,' (namely reading, writing, and accounts.)— ^ 
NiUionSf Booh Chap, L Part if. Art. 2- He then recom- 
mends the means which he thinks best adapted to the^ie ends ; 
the establishment of parochial schools, with part of the ex- 
penses }>aid by the public, and part by the scholars ; and the 
exclusion of such as cannot read and write and cipher, from 
corporate rights, and * the freedom of setting up an^ trade either 
« in a tillage or town corporate, * We question, after this, if 
the authority of Adam Smith will be with much confidence ap- 
pealed to a second time upon the present occasion. 

But it will be said, that authority ought not to usurp the place 
of reason ; and the opinion of Smith may be combated, by his 
more rigid followers affirming that they preserve the faith in 
more absolute purity, nay, that they correct the backslidings 
of the master, and are destined to be the Benthams of this 
chapter, for die purpose of making him throughout consistent 
widi himself. We fear this is not precisely the destiny to which 
they are called ; for reason seems to put them down quite as 
triumphantly as authority. The principle of non-^interference— 
of leaving things to themselves — applies not to the case of edu- 
cation, unless where the thing to be taught can be learnt in 
private, or by a very small number of pupils ; that is to say, 
unless the question regards only the education of the rich. The 
moment a inimerous school is required, the principle fails ; and 
foils more or less completely in proportion as the district is less 
or more populous. No man thinks that every farmer or trades- 
man, still less every poor labourer or mechanic, can have a pri- 
vate tutor for his children. To be taught at all, they must go 
to a school, where so many children attend, that each can w 
taken at a. low rate of school wages, fees or quarter pence. In 
populous places, it may not be difficult to find masters who will 
mAe a trade in opening such schools for profit ; but, in villages 
or country districts, where the whole neighbourhood afford no 
xxuxre than twenty or thirty children, bow is such a thing to be ex- 
pected ? Sixpence a week is a high price for such a school ^ it 
IS more than the original price Or the High School of Edin- 
burgh, where the persons of the highest rank in Scotland edu- 
cate their children in Latin, Greek, at^ Geognq^hy. that 

ISSOk The ^ Education fir 225 

rate of <]xUifter penee would not maiiitain # iiMMr oi M 
decent descriptioA in auch a situation as we icre stqwiosiiig* 
would take tVice as much. Yet thirty ehildmt of the yearn 
going to schooh exclusive of nine or ten whose fimrents nihy 
prefer educating them at home, and especially girls, answers to 
. a population of above four hundred inhabitants -4ind it is need* 
less to say how many districts there are in England and Wales^ 
where ncit above four hundred persons live. If, however, we 
supjmse a moderate rate of quarter pence only to be paid, th<ai 
the lowest number of inhabitants who could aifcHd to maintain 
a school must be above SCO ; and this is about the average popula* 
tion of the parishes all England over, including cities and towns, 
as well as country districts and villages.* Supposing, again, that 
we separate the parishes into two classes, those of cities or great 
towns, and country ones ; we can reckon the average of the lat- 
ter at little more than 600 — ^wbich is evidently far too thin a 
population to maintain a school, by trusting to the voluntaay 
supply following the demand. 

This seems to settle the matter as to country districts ; but e* 
veri in the towns where the poor might more easily supply them- 
selves with education, a difficulty occurs well deserving of at- 
tention. The supply of articles of prime necessity in every 
country, may safely be left to be regulated by the demand ; and 
tliere is no risk of any class of persons b,eing long in want of 
them who can afford to pay a fair price for tlm acquisition ; be- 
cause all pretty nearly stand equally in need of them. But it 
is for otherwise with education. The poor are apt to underva- 
lue it, or at least to postpone it to more sensible objects ; and 
if there are many, or even several pci'sons in any district who ' 
seek it not, their negligence puts it out of the reach of those 
who desire it, because it reduces the number of scholars below 
that which can maintain a master. It would indeed be a fair 
position to lay down, that the whole of the poor in any country 
care considerably less for instruction than they ought ; and that 
their wish for it is never strong and steady enough to command 
a regular and secure supply. Bad times come, and the quar- 
ter pence are grudged ; the school is broke up. The distress 
passes away, and the poor next year are anxious for imtarue- 
tira : but a long time must now elapse before another schoi^ 
will be ventured upon in that quarter where it had so latefy 
failed. From a consideration of this circumstasio^ it seems rea^ 

^ sonable to coi^ude, that they are right who maintain the prin- 
’ ciple cf bringing Education to the door as it were of the poor 
ftian, bodi in towns and country districts, by extraordinary en* 
pouragements to the establishment of seboois, vrihiob requires* 

VOL. XXXIV. NO. 67. ^ P 

nc JTka Nnk Plan qT EduBntitm^ JSngflatiA Jimg^ 

eertain teal and a nertaitio cofnbixmtioB to eSect iU and Joay 
therefore moatahrktly be pkeed on the same footing a^ith m 
erection of pttMMbarorfau 

The atkimeeooittained in the Di^t sigoftlly confirms tlua 
view of the subject in every paiticcdar. It miiy he seen< no 
dottb^ Hiat the average number of children attmmg the nm* 
endoi^ Ihiy schooh (exclusive of Dame schools) is anly thirty-* 
one ; but then the Tables also show, that a considerable pro*- 
poi4o9o of these are educated by ehavhable contributions. In- 
deed^ of the 478,000 chUdren educated at unendowed Day 
schools, 168,000 are maintained by aubscriptlon^ or other cha*- 
rity. Almost the whole of the Sunday schools, too,, ore i'ree 
schools; and of the 165,000 educated at endowed schools, only 
about SO, 000 pay ouarter pence. It thus appears, that nearly 
all the l^nday schools, avid one half of the Day schools in 
Eimland,* are supported by charity. 

Bui another ground is taken upon this point by the objectors/ 
Seeing the impossibility of trusting to the poor themselves, they 
tell us, nevertheless, that we may trust to private beneficence.. 
But this is a most follaoious argument, and is liable to be refuted 
by the very considerations to i^iich its supporters ameal. The 
exertions which charitable persons have made in J^gland far 
promoting Education, as well as for all oUier benevoWt pui** 
l^es, are far atove our praise* Nevertheless, such efforts must 
nave their limits ; and we su&pect those limits have of late years 
been reached. The fact, tliat die BiiUsh and Foreign Swool 
Society never has at any time had an income ol' I SOW* a year, 
even on paper, speaks volumes on this head. It is equally triie^ 
that the more individuals have exerted themselves in such ef- 
forts, the more likely they ore now to l)c exhausted ; and it is n 
known truth, that the difliculty uf olitaiiiing sul)sei'iptiui3S lor 
new charities, has uf lute become almost insurmoantablcv Be-> 
sides, such resources arc fiuct»Kiting uiul unceriain in their na- 
ture; and nothing can l>e more obvious than that sirott a vari- 
able supply is ill adapted to meet a demand winch either is or 
ouj^t to be made constant and regular. The charitable labours 
of good and enlightened men for educating the Poor, are ue^ 
eessarily confined to populous places* Thete only can great 
tneetiiigs be hdd^ and large contributiosv obtained. Accord- 
in^y we find, ihtst the two great HueietieB for promoting Ikluca- 
thm, the National^ and the British and Forcim Behoof iiocie^, 
only, plant schoob upon the new plan ; aud this plan, from its 
nnlxlte^ must be confined to towns of consklerable siae* We are 
ttwiure, that mere private itiuntfieenoe has furnialted ptojr sujp-^ 
flim to the aaase good Muse ; but that is a still more uncertags 

T%9 Nra^ Plan if Edmatimjbr Bng^afid. W 

sdpply* Almg may be edo^; end thereCbre, there U fiir better 
^[^und for ttu^^ing to individual diarity for supporting the pmr* 
But how lohg would it take before indivulUids should beUinik 
them of planting schools for the thousands of poor children irbo 
have now mi means bf instruction ? Let it be recollected, too^ 
that private charity is not alitays vety judiciously bestowed. A 
desire to do too much fot* a few children, is far more prevalent 
among the humane^ than a wise disposition to do somewhat for 
a greater number $ and the truth is undeniable, that many well- 
inientiojted men have founded establishments of a kind realfy 
hurtful to society, at a ^eat cost^ when a tenth of the funds 
would, if well applied, have proved really beneficial. 

But we are desired to look at the result ; and the vast progress 
made of late years in Educating the poor, is cited as a comrinctn^ 
proof how much may be expected nrom this source; We join 
willingly in this appeal to facts ; for we know that it must at once 
decide the whole question. From the Digest it appears, that 
there are about 145,000 children taught at the new Day schools, 
exclusive of those taught at Sunday schools, — which ought m 
this question to be kept apart, both because almost all of tliem at- 
tend Day schools also, and because the tuition at Sunday scliools, 
without any other, is extrmely imperfecu Now, from the num- 
bers taught at these New schools, no one can doubt that a large 
deduction must be mbde for thope educated before their esta- 
blishment either at the same school previous to its being new- 
mpdelled, or at some neighbouring seminary, given up since 
the larger one was set on foot, rerhaps 100,000 is not too 
small a number for the whole addition made in the means of 
Education by those new schools during the last fifteen years ; and 
at this rale, nearly forty years would be required to afford the 
means still wanting, even if we supposed private charity to make 
the same exertions during the next half century that u has dur- 
ing the Iasi few years ; whereas no man can f)rcteud to expect 
such a thing; and, indeed, every one knows that those exer- 
tions are almost wliolly confined to large towns. 

But the Digest like.vlsc shows how many institutions of this 
description ate languishing for want of funds And how many 
unendowed schools of all kind$ have been discontinued every- 
where from the same cause. The necessity of some less preca- 
rious supply being provided of ao article of such primary neces- 
sity as elementary education, is, indeed, proved in almost etery 
pBM of these volumes. 

The result of the Tables may now be shortly referred to, as 
*€Sttabtishiiig b^emd all conltv>ver8y the want of education which 
, hbm exists. Tile Endowed Schools in England teach abM4 

P a 

P{i^il4ow^. l^.^boo^ ^4!7$,OOq,^ 

.ii)ain^ where ' ui^ 

i^ Jq 'jph^^Ta]['. v?arn^. Hi tben, >e dbd’4ct fi» ' these, 
Is) wesh^^^iave sboiit 590, OQQ cbfldren teugbi;' i^-rPaj 
must add aboiit] 10,0Q0 for de^<4ei^t fisib^s, 
8i^iii^.);wn)h^ bavih^rpade none. ' Tp tbu^ .number, of. 

,|iq bp a^ Jed tbe diildren belonging ‘ in 'iip- 

p^ and Wddle classes of sqeiet^. wbo .Muei^ tHmr e^dd^eti, 
particularly daughters^ at homp pr kt boarding acb^I%.'not 
ncMiced m die Tables, tbpngb fr^oendy in,' the J^igbst. Mr 
^rougham, ! from the population munui considered ?6,(K>0..a3 
g.propcrr allowemce for tnis.clas^ but> if any thbigt too smaH; 
tmd tne npat addition made.wbs incontestably much tpO large, 
except that he was. desirous jcd; rather unden^ng than 6»er- 
stadug the deficiency. He allowed, of the 452, OW. taught at 
Sunday schools, 1.00,000 as attending thow institutions beyond 
thu numbers included in the column of Pay ^hoqls; the knOWn 
fact being, that a ^eator proportion than seven* ninths of the 
Sunday scholars attend Week-day schools. The grand total of 
cbildre^educatod in any way, even in the scanty measure dealt 
putih^: cqnday schools, is diu^ only 756,000. Now, the Ip^^ 
estiini^ of the menus of education for any country^ feqiiiri^ 
dud th^ ..should , he schods. for onertenth of the p^ulatiop ; 
but from the dearly appears that a krger propprddn 
is requisite^'p^cially if we include the means Tor all chts^ 
high as well as low. Mr Brougham rededps rather more 'th^ 
miCTnihth i hut, Staking onc-tentk as the scale, it thus ^pedtS 
that there are only die means of eduenUng seven milUouirinid u 
half of. the people in England, leaving noless than twq mHltdhs 
widiout any education, and tliree rnlmons witbotii; 'd)e''i^y 
fiictual education,; naniely, that uhtaihed at Day s^^l^ Xet 
us shortly compare this with the state of other ' ndtere 

pwular .education is supposed to bb well attcnddl' ti). ' ' % 
in Scotland,' .taking the average of twelve coundei^ the no- 
pt^ation of whidi. 636,000, ana making no allowance for we 
edudition of upper classes, or for prime tuition at all, there 
are 'schools between one-uinih ^d onertenth of die po- 

putatjbn nre. taught.. In Holland, by the li^orl of diq CdM- 
ipibibn .of 18l2, .at.fhe head of Sy'hich.wiM Mr ChivSer^ It 
pj^lcrB .that there wer^. i.461 s^oblss .where i 90,000 ’^cMldteh 
verB inapsucted, pi: on^tenth of ^the population; ' ^n dil^ 
yi,ud^...gbuut{Oni^eigh^ pf the pc^le at^d dte 'j^sh 

ish. 229 

sc^wJs; an^ not ’ch^ pi^i^^ in sixty is t6^ bcfoiiua(¥^!B‘(>‘ iM^> 
reaSV Pranpe presents a Very different piifture. The R^Vit. 
. fhe Commission in t8lS gave the nuihbe^ attending 
at lVo^0?»5OO, or 1 -28th of the populatidn,* Yet tlic exieitt^l 
mating in •that cbutitry may ^ell excite our admiratioii. ill 

• pv:d theiminliers iiad increased from 866,000 ; the pro-* 

portion in 1817 having bdeii only l-35lh. During those well 
spent, and, let us say, truly glorious years of civil triumph, 71201 
schools had been planted, capable of educating 204,^00 child- 
ren, and supplying the mean-Vof education to a population of 
two millions. The zeal of inJividuais being powerfully second- 
ed by the Governmoiit, in a very few jTars", France will be as 
well educated as Holland. Wales appears lo be much wor?^ 
off than England ; there are not schools, even including Da 
schools, for above onc-twcntioth — that i-s there are only tlie 
means of educating half the people of the principality. 

The inequality with which thet education of which we have* 
been speaking is diffused through the different parts of Eng-, 
land, is a very striking circumstance ; and affords perhaps the 
strongest of all arguments against leaving matlcrsto themselves, 
or rcljdng entirely upon tlie charitable exertions of individuals. 
In tlie four northern counties of Westmoreland, Cumberland, 
Northumberland, and Durham, the average is about one-tenth ; 
in ‘y^cstmoreland it is as high as one-severith or onc-cighth— 
bepjg superior to the Pays de Vaud, and consequently the best 
educat^^ district in Europe. In Wills and Somersetshire, the 
average is one-eighteenth, or one-nineteenth ; in Lancaster and 
ono-twentyfourth. But before the establishment o£ 
the pjew schools in Middlesex, it was as low as one-fortvsixth. 

respecting such a county, Is truly deplorable. . Cal-r 
c^ia^n^, as w^e before did, for the whole country, it thus appears, 
that .ai the present momept there are not the mearis of l^luca- 
tionfbr one half the people in the metropolitan county; and 
but a few years ago, there werd three-fourths of that po- 
piitation destitute of those means 1 

We cannot conclude tins argument, without referring some-^ 
what ipore particularly to the labtiurs of the two most merito- 
ribus in^itutions which we have already mentioned. It is v^- 
far ipdeed from our intention to undervalue their usefulness,, 
when contend, that soiriething is wanting both more pow'er- 
fyl and n^re permanent, than their constitution and meabs en-» 

• f^ble them to accoihplish, for educating the whole people of 
•England* The Lancaster Sobiety, or^ as it is now chilled, thjst 
British Foreign l^hool Society, has long been fanuliar to 

• our rfead'ers, thrdU^'the pages df this Journul. We, from the 

9/^ T%e IM) Pirn 

earliest period of ‘the oc^'trovcrs^ to^ieh the r^ppsHe phMs 
of the tvro losdtadons gave' rise, have exptvssM pnr decldttl 
opinioa ^ fivroor o/t the figratem whi^ pforesses to tea6h the 
poor rpedtw and writioA without distinction of seete* >knd to 
open wdtOQU in which ul forms or worship, aMd dl tht^et bf 
mth, mny indiscriminately unite in bestowing thb 'foditiimMe 
bearau or education, alike necessary to make good ^hsdple*t bf 
the Chocich, and so^ followers of pie Sects. But it never «p- 
peMred to us at ail maintainable, as some prOfesScd to argue, 
Umt the National Society would not be productive of good in 
phices where there was room for the exertions of both societies, 
that is to say, in all places of a cerfaun size, where the ekcluaive 
plan might be adopt^ in one school for the education of cfaurOh- 
men, and the universal jdan be pursued in another for sectaries 
as well as churcbmen. And in places where there were no aeo 
tones, it was obvious that as much good must be done if a school 
was founded on the exclurivo as on the univeml plan, — 
this materiel difference, that the children attending it would be 
taught the rriigion of their fomilies, ‘as well as the common ele« 
ments of knovriedge. The only ham to be apprehended from 
the exclusive plan, unquestionably was, that in places of a small 
size, which could not maintain two sdiools, it was likely to pre* 
vent the ebSdren of poor dissenting parents frotn receiving any 
instruction, unless they were prepare to give up their peculiar 
proed; that is, unless they were only dissenters in name. It is 
fair to add, that the experience of ten years has materially di- 
sninUhed these apprehensionc ; and the praiseworthy liberality 
of the Directois <» the National Society has been tending mere 
and more towards opening their schoobdoors wide to all. The 
truth is, that the New System of Education is only adapted to 
great towns, as we have already observed ; and in those there 
will alwfQTs be abundant room for the execution of both the 
plans, without any risk of their interfering with each Other. 
But the National Society have wisely and liberally been render- 
ing their schools more and more accessible to consderitious dis- 
senters from the Establishment; and the value of such cohccs- 
aions is not to be lightly spoken bf by sectaries^ when it is re- 
fiollected how much more ample the means of me one Society 
nee than Aose of the other. 

Giving all praim to both those useful Bodies, let it be again 
remarked that their labours are necessarily su^ect to ilndna- 
tion, and limited in extent. Thus, the British and Foreign So- 
ciety has mote than once depend^ for its existence upon the, 
extouordinary exertions of two or three individuals like Jbtoph 
fox and Wuliam Allen (if indeed, beside themselves dhy'knch 

MnfUm4> *Sl 

^ bQ ;|isl(ed their fortunes, and pk«|c^ 

‘their credit for we ppnjinoB good, with a generoo^ eWthujllWTO 
of which there i» {^hajps no other ekanyilo on record." 
/^Oiciaty aherwards waa ni^bt, and we brieve has oiS^hll^ 
reUevt4 hy ^ tVimiher of i^s<w coming forward with soudEill^ 
CWB# t« tiViOff each. The National Society, too, has been oUi^ 

■ ed to-eaii upon Ks members, late, for an extraordinaiy nm' 
iributioB to reUevc it, and enable It to pursue its laudable bounte. 
'But sueh cidls muuiot be often repeatra ; they drain the souree 
from i|rhich the supplies proceed', and fhey mwe even the best ci 
us grow weaiy of well>doing.> The zeal or leading members maty 
not cool ; but no system can be long depended on which must 
be supported by extraordinary efforts. A Regular supply of 
means is wanted which shall be sulnect to no <hbs and flows. 
The evidence before the Education Committee, who examfoM 
the leading members of both Societies, plainly shows how cramp- 
ed tlieir operations are, for want^of fonds. It is clearly proved, 
that the grand difiiculty in founding schools, even where thby 
are most wanted, is, the first expense, the cost of outfit, as it 
were, fyocai subscribers wilt be found who will support the 
schoed after it is once established ; because^ to raise 80f. or lOOf. 
a year, 'is not so hard a task ; but to raise SOOf. or lOOOf. for 
buildi^ or buying a commodious seboolhouse and d'welling for 
the master, is not so easy a task. Accordin^y, the Committee 
reported, both in 1816 and 1818, in favour of ^asits beinggiveii 
by Government, to enable the local subsor^rs to overconw 
this diflicnity : — for It was manifest that bodt die Sodeties to- 
gether could do little or nothing towards sudi purposes ; the 
one haying only 1200/., and the other not, we believe, SOOOI. a 
year to meet all demands. Mow the money should be distri- 
buted was auotlier question, and of far more difficulty and de- 
licacy. fho obvious method of entrusdng each Society with a 
certain sum, was liable to serious objections. To invest private 
and irresponsible individuals witli large funds for a publick pur- 
pose, was, upon principte, extrcmelv unadviseable ; an'l to in- 
corporate any bodies of men with this view, beside other ob- 
jeetiona was open to this, that the State protecting a religious 
establishment, could harcRy be said to act consistently, if it gave 
^ual, or nearly equal, encouragement to the sectaries dissect- 
ing j&ora that EstaVUshment. That some snoh grants may be 
n^essaiy for the service of large towns, in addition to the pio- 
vj^ons of the general plan which We are about to describe, is 
hig^y probable ; and m that case the distribution must unqncs- 
tjondbly be niadc upon the principles of the plan itself, and 
throjijtgb tlic Chigity Copiniw4<>**mv;> ^ some otoer body of ra- 

98$ The Neff Jifr ijBr^taiuZ, Aug* 

sponsible public^ to relunp^ to tbe twq Sot 

cieties. ,<,►*' " 

We have nmmioned ope, veiv <^bvions limit to thhir bepevor 
lent operalioDs. As (^e gref^t^ qeht^atiun is siiioola in {ilaaw 
where thei^e are none* ip)4 qs jt. a|^|ibrs not cwiy Uist m cqwii* 
try districts those societies never proiess toatteinptple»tjipganp» 
since there the new methods do not apply,, but also that in Itnge 
towns they have not dip means, both t(^tlw» planting hwiT 
a dozen in the course of a year — it may be tu^ed in what tfaeir 
useflihiess consists, and how so many have been fimoded 

within the last fifteen vears upon the Kew Plan, ^1 stated to be 
the work of one or omer Institution ? The Educaliou I>igest 
unquestionably states a large number of new schools in all parts 
of toe country. In England, there are 1.123 Day schools and 
404 Sunday schools on the New Plan — and about 70 in Wales^ 
making a total of about 1600 schools. This is considerably un- 
der the numbers reported by the two societies as in ccnnenion 
with them ; and very possibly die clergy may have omittod spme 
in their Reports, that is to sav, may have omitted tp mentiou 
that a given number of schools were conducted upon the sew 
methods. But then as those returns contain all schools so ccBif 
ducted, whether in connexion with the two societies or not, it 
seems imposuble to doubt that the Reports pf these societies 
take credit for more schools than are actually connected with 
them. Blit a further remark is necessary ppon tins point. It 
is not pretended that all, or even any considerable number, of 
those schools, admitted to be in their connexipit, have been 
founded by their means. They have encogrodsd tbp founds'* 
tion, by giving advice and information upon the sul^eot gene« 
rally, ana by corresponding with the Io<^4 asssociaUpns; and^ 
above all, they have educated teachers at tlieur central pcjSnxd* 
in London, where many country sdiools have thus hnen able ta 
obtain masters. They have also occasiondUy ^vep tbl^ a num- 
ber of books and lessons. But the substantial work ha*) ofeottrspst 
been done by the activity, charity, and resources of the local j»u^ 
scribers— except in the very few instances wheie, assistance in 
money has been lent by the Societies. As soon, ^wever, as a 
considerable number of new schools are estal^sh^ in ddforeat; 
parts of the country, the principal use of the Societies ceases t, 
Because the funds for educating masters, as wml as for pWtng 
them when they are placed, come from the local stihscTfibara, 
it is for better for them to send masters to be educated ip sesne 
neighbouring new school than in London. , , 

Thus, suppose a new school is devised at Bolton, apda fond 
piovided for planting it— 'the fost st^ is to procure a ffp#tf%* 


1890« ' The NOd P9an ^ EdueoHon foe JSlhgUHSt 

Nor, no one wHi at the'piMent day prelend, thkt Inhere Sh liui^ , 
bers of mastere ready taught either at the trough Road or iif 
Baldwin^ G^ons, one 6f whom can be deapatclied at a (sail, 
to tricethe achotd under his Once we thought such a mu- 
nificent sdhopic practicable ;^md as we trusted both Sode^ 
woidd eaPfine themselves to ^alify masters, so we had hoped ' 
thektifends would have enaUed them to have a succession of these 
alvnm readjy. The event has not realized those hopes. In 
tbeiBMOttgh Road Establishment, above all, the boarding and 
lodging ss smalt number of such masters was found to e^aust 
all the funds, and involved the Ettablishment in considerable 
difileulties. The good men at Bolton must therefore, at tfadr 
own emense, send a young man to be qualified for his new ofi. 
fice. There is an excellent school at Manchester, a few miles 
ofij where fae’may Icam tile art as well as in London, and be 
boarded much cheaper. Wliy must they equip him for a jour- 
ney to London and back, merely that it may be said that their 
school is founded by one of the Societies? In a word, it seems 
to us adf-eVident that tliose tuo excellent Institutions will com- 
mit « great error if they do not now confine their operations to 
the Metropolis. They have propagated tlie method, and, thanks 
to their zeal and skill, it is sufficiently known, to render any fur- 
ther expense ill-judged, except for local purposes. Ix>ndon, 
with a million of inhabitants for only one half of whom there 
exirt'the means of education— London within their reach, be- 
fore' dieir eyes spreads out to their humane and enlightened 
view a ecene of ignoiiuicc, vice, and misery, which might ap- 
pal others, but ought to encourage them. It affords an am^e 
fiedd for all thdr exertions ; and they may rest assured, that 
the glory of reforming sudi a community, or of putting it in tho 
way of being reformed, is for greater than that of most im- 
penectly, and indeed nominally, ‘supcnutcuding the improve^ 
ment or the whole kingdom^ 

Bat if'this remark applies in some measure to both Socie- 
ties, how much more cogent is iti application to that whose 
very >ii8me feminds us of the degree in which it is rising, 
from excels of humane afid e^iinsive zeal no doubt, agaiqst 
all fitnesa and moderation ! Tnc British and ‘Foreign School 
Society is founded in that very £,andon which we have been 
describing as in absolute Want of scliyots, and desU- 

tute of tmem than any portidq of ^he Island. Meeting in 
.the Vt»y Woifst parish of all tliis me^trppqlis, ’ in, pil^s’a, 
where they cannot boast of more than pitjnnce U' revenofi 
alreaify fo frequmitly depleted, they listen to rcpqrto of die pro- 
gress vdiieir’tfaey'arc nimung with tlie hew method— inBt Giles’s ? 


•^n any pkt of Lafridon?-^* dw Couatiy^^in lwinn4? 
Jfoi butr^iit B^nc4‘*‘4pafK--<ul^and'~Itttiida^Fmlni4^^ 

M Ihe £aaSne aftd'tha Csspian i I^ot tbaf wBun- 

jilMTaM^ab^ a iavM^liiladtkt«py-*bDt we mainttdn it t» 

Ihtm appMfmttta M Iha meene of tkei&ciety, or indiaiobs 

ittitihel|^oiwnttatbtftltaSri«niedialeiiieigWbn«rkood.* ThaD, 
ift <die statement tmite free from eidkmle wlsiek r^msaait tlm 
;9ocietyM edneatmg, eo'cireanlduigiaeboodeeatiimiof SImmkk, 
swlien ^ere is a most rrgalariy arranged Associadon dien ao 
fblly adequate for the (Mi^mee, as ks lidxMw** above detafled, 
during the last four yean^ bare ahosra it Do be ? But tbo fin- 
ddt and j^oreign Saoe^ may be ehe |wrent of this OalHcaa As- 
sociation. We do not say that there has been bo eannexion 
between them,* we beliewt that the labours of Latmaster, and^of 
the two Societies in this ooantaWj and the sorceas of the system 
here have had a most benefieial eifoot in atirring ap the spirit 
now prerailng among our neighbours, and wi direcdag mw 
zeal in a course. But we can hardly allow it Co he seiioiis- 
ly maintained* that the French Soeit^y is a hrandi or a sluot 
of the British and Fordgn Sodety, wMn we recottect that in 
nil its Bepoits the aaoie of Bell is nniformly coupled with and 
placed brfoTe that of Laneaatef t mid that me French wyiters, 
after tiieir usual nianeer, deny to botA our oauttfiynieB ehetino- 
rit of the invaneion, winch they ascribe to their own pious and 
enlightened fellow-labourer, Father De la £lalle^ who flourished 
a century ago. i i 

One word more mt^ be added before quitting this auh^ct. 
Ifhe British -and ForeigA Society olyects vehemently to the plan 
of mtclushm adopted more or less by the ether CipstitBtiM ; end 
Its members are :q)t to eomplatu that anychurdnabi dieuld 
ahow reougnaUce to eendtheirohildren to4be LaBcaMer ashnols. 
Oiyr opinioii in fovohr of the universal efsteip faas'beeo. already 

I,. I I no, fast 

* Wo desire te have it lUstittetly uadenMeod that our objeOflon 
Jiere is oobfiued entirely to this exeomhvphilantliropy, when trade 
thO'ehject ef such sbriodes as the one in qeeadon. Ulxm iadtridu- 
ab, bmwt ever reflect tha highest htnoafi. Thus, aoioae caathear 
<of the labeum anoaumeied by William Allen in hif long aiqd pariloua 
founuesm4d»i£astiaodriimwlwie, tar the .purpose of nrtqia^ing 
the new Metliodi without foelings of the deepest gratitnc^ ^ 

man almoelj without parallel for gpnuine philanthropy, ja an ^ of 
beaevoteaee* But gll good t^ oaa be dpne abroad by ^coi^U* 
nications from tbb eouptryi u effected by one such person'; |nda 
Society devoting itself to the same pursuits, is sufe of ^radt^ and 
Wredkmpg i^ cfleotfi at hone, without rendcni^aujiderdl^tlmm ser- 
vice ihroM. ' •( I • 

}M0. J%t for Jg ngjl iif rf jlS5 

||i«eiv bo^ ao«r.«p4 «po»fqi^ 43«cwicp»j hui w^jofp^fgo^ 
teu aftauiit flM Utia&iMn tWhith can induce enj cm^ia c1h # i Me 
ohnn»men with iMgolry end inttderauce for {wcfenriaff d^pwe 
'vlmw the doctri n ee wf the Chwdi are tac^t. Koth^ m tl^e 
htetoi^ofcq^rtrovertyeverwassonnreaaonable. Acharchimm 
as hatifritljr (Kwfinis a scboid whtire the catechism is taught^ «a,a 
eeotsrjr prefim one where Urs axduded. Nor U it any answer 
to say, tlwC the dissenter cannot send his diild wh^e it is 
tanght, while the churchman may send his where it is excluded. 

undhnbtedly ; bat be may also prefer the odier ; and 
this prei^nce produces no sort of rril edect» unless in the single 
case of the community he lives in not being large or rich enough 
to support Bchods on both plans. As to the charge which was 
brought atgainst the National Society at first, tbat^ they were 
taking the work of education into their own bands in order to 
mar it ; — they may now safely despise it ; tlicy have long outlived 
it; anA very early in their. career, thev triumphantly put it 
down with the strong arm of Good Works. It was an outcry, 
indeed, never encouraged by tlic truly respectable leaders of the 
rival association, whose toleration is in pre^ortion to their wis- 
dom and their benevolence. But we feel the nmre anxious to 
state onr own sentimeute on this subject, because we were a- 
mong those who really did at first regard that Society with a 
oertom distrust, from the intolerance which some of its advo- 
cates displayed. A more serious charge, however, remains to 
be brought against some of those excellent persons; we mean ar- 

£ lmt their good sense,— >for of ibcir pure intentiops no man can 
nbt. Symptoms have tppeared of their aversion to any Par- 
ttamentarv proceedings conuected with Education. And the 
one which we single ont as th^ most rc^arkable^ is the entire 
silence of their yearly Eeports t^jon the subject of the Educa- 
tion Committee. There m ceitaimly in those documents qo Ipck 
of dcUiil upon all matters connected vltli Education. Every 
little anecdote is widi laudable industry picked nm and with ex- 
amplary minuteness detailed^ from all parts of the country hav- 
ing uny bearing upon the subject Hardly a circumstance oc- 
cnlrs respecting any school in any part of the empire, that is not 
recorded. AH the proceedings or foreign societies and fbrmgn 
princes in favour of popular instruction, are enumerated. But 
year after year has passed, during whi*^ one trHling event has 
tiding place, which all tKx^ Reports have pmued over in 

S rofoup'd ^teUce — probably because tt happened in the imme- 
iatc qrighbourhood, and was therefore of no account to a Bri- 
' tish aqd Fore/gn Society;— we mcaiii' a Parfiarnfentary Inquiry 
concerning the Education of the Poor in the British Pomipipus 

286 iteis Mad for England. AAg* 

--an^ measwpf I^iqpfry,;m)dl receiving ttie 

boncuon of tne^lLegislaturi^* Jtf we were spea^cing/)f any other 
men a$apciati^„, we should be tempted toiubk. 

whether they are jealous ^ ParKamenl— whether they will let 
nobody educate tlieiu«eltefi-*T-wfaether they dreed the numh 
ber of reapers becoming loo great for the ekteut of the harvesi^ 
whether, in a word, it is the inttriiction of the people, or the glory 
of teaching them, ^at they hare at heart? theWdil hnowis 

character of those woKh]^ persons precluderi ifao' possibility of 
lierbourfatig any such sa<ipictons^ and wc ara inalitred te^ l^ieve, 
that the extraordinary appeartoee* in r(ueat<on 5s referable to 
jealousy of another descripfron,^ — We mean the dread tif Parlia- 
ment acting upon the exclusive principle whlfch the !ferjti4h and 
Foreign Society has certainly opposed with most con^li^tent per- 
severance. Upon this we shall hcroaftcJ^ plFcr a few observa- 
tions, after developing the plan now before ParlTanicnt. In the 
mean time, we cannot better dote these preliminory remarks, 
tlian in the words of an eminent writer, who^e speculations upon 
the ^ Ctvil and Chiiium Eemowy qf large Towns, ’ cannot he 
too highly commended, for the sound prncilca] sense, as weU aa 
the large and enlightened views of human nature, which every- 
where distinguish them# The following passages, from the last 
number of this exceHent little woik, strongly iUu»4;me both llie 
arguments which wu have now been maintaining. 

* It U with common, as it is with Christian education. There is^ 
not such a native and spontaneous demand for it in any cotin tiy, Bh 
will call forth a supply of it at all adequate to iho ndects of the popu- 
Iatfoi|. If the people are left to themselves, they wilt not, by any 
originating movement of thtir own, emerge out of igtiorancc at the 
first ; nor will they afterwjsrds peipetuate any habit of education to 
which fhey may have been raised in the course of one generation, "if, 
in all succeeding generations, they ate left wholly to seek after scho- 
larship, and whofiy to pay for it. To keep up popular learning, 
there is just the same reasop for an establishment, as we have already 
alleged in behalf of aif establishment for rdfigion. The artiple must 
be obtruded upon them, and, in some degree, offered to them; and 
If (1^ way of so obtruding it is, that there shall be one fiAri^ of 

g^si^al repair for ibe pccmle of each distinct locality, to wbicfi pa- 
i^o&'under the impulse pr near and surrounding example, may send 
thew (children for the purposes of education — ^then let these faprics be 

Dover agaiu descending tp thf low slate out of which tn^jr hpd 

< Voluntary ata6)^BtiW hive come‘fertr>rd in fhe diutO of eiluca* 

182D. Edmafion/i^ SS7 

ticp, without wuting for anv such fiignal. if, to look confident- 
fy forwai d to let pirotoO^d dnd, i^th'fc^bte and di^r<^ortlofaa^ ineM»» 
be to incur the character of visionary, then we reaif that tt^ ttliptit#- 
. tion tnurt be made to rdt upon aho. They have til bbdi^ 
gtesltly iejPfi efficient than ilkty *iirfght hirtfe bedtt, firom their neglect bf 
the principle of locality. ' there are many aeimeiationo wlnoh, by 
their reBoiireoa, cotdd have done that permanently and aubstaati^iy 
for a dittrict Of the town, whii^ they have vainly attempted, mud 
hove, therefore, done partially and superficialiy for the whole. Tim 
money whibb could have built a k)cal ichocd, and eoaanated enougii 
of interest for eaor to have keptit in repair^ and^provided the teacher 
with a perpetual ^^ry> has been dis^Upated in tfansient and inefieo 
tual exertions for the accomplishment of a universal object;. The 
error is, to have been led away, by the splendour of a conception, far 
greater than it was able to realize. It is this ambition, to plan be- 
yond the ab^i ty to execute, which has involved in foilure and mis- 
direction, so many of the efforts of philcmthropy. And they who 
have so precipitately counted on any general lesult, that would be at 
all sensible, from the proceedings of any one society, however mag- 
nificent in its scale, and however princely the offerings that were ren- 
dered to it, have evinced themselves well entitled to the character oT 

‘ llte great mischief of any such society is, that it blnids the pub*- 
lie eyd to tlie utU*r inadequacy df its own operations# It sends a 
feeble emanation over the whole city; which were doing an import- 
ant benefit, had it only the eSect of making the darkness visible. 
But, instead of tliib, we tear that the light which it thus diffuses, im- 
perfect as it is, ib rated, not according to the intensity with which it 
shines upon our population, hut accoidlng to tlie extent in which it is 
thinly and obscurely spread over them. The terv title of a school 
for all, is enough to deceive a miscalculating pubiic, into the imagi- 
nation, that all are ptpvkled with schooling, if, instead of trying to 
epgross the whole, the society in question had concentrated its means 
and itb energies upon a part, and upon such a part too, as it could 
overtake most thoioughly. thure would hfive been no such pernicious^ 
delusion ill the way of rendering a solid and entire benefit to the la- 
bouring classes. The very contrast it had produced between the 
district it so tifectusITy biighttned, and the total darkness of the sur- 
rounding or contiguous bpaces, would have fmeed that lesson upou 
the public notice, uliiclr, under tin* generalizing system, is thrown 
into disguise altogether. Instead of a st^ablancc of education for tbit 
whole, let there be the substance of it in one pait; and this will at 
length spread and propagate its own likeness over all the other parts. 
It will serve, like the touch of a fiame, to kindle the whote mass into 
a brilliancy as luminous as its own- It never would be permitted to 
^#^nd a barren and solitary ii'cmorial. rnCn would soon fed a 

sWpOnvibllitj in diher quarters, who nOw foel none at all. Other 
. fmeties would epufi^djly tuise m other dii^uiuts; and the whole c&ct^ 

998 TTk Nm PUm ^miHcatimJhr Al%. 

^hieh wa8 Bo^^nUlf }oi«ft«Nl m rtie result of om» groat organiaH- 
wiii at feoglii ha nuMle bjf theappositaan of Mieceorive paru 
to oae a n e<lt cr4 t>^ r 

* Our iar these feasona* is* that no benorolent a^ 

ciety fyr odocoiioii ahaU uiidsiliiica*a Jarger space of the city than it 
can provide for« both and perpetually ; by seclaimiiig its 

families to a habit of sdholmbip for over* through the means of a 
permanent endowment* attached exclusively to the district of its ope*- 
rations. It is far better to cultivate one distriet well* though all the 
others should be left uotouclied* than to superficialiae over Use whole 
ci^. It is far better* that these other districts be thrown sis unpro* 
vided orphans* upon a benevolence that is sure to be called out at 
other times* and in other cirdes of society* Instead of casting upon 
them a feeble and languid regard* it is infinitely betted to abandon 
them to the fresh, and powerful* and unexpended regards of other 
men. Let none of us think to monopolize all the benevolence of the 
world, or fear that no future band of philanthropists shall arise* to 
carry the cause forward from that point at which We have exhausted 
our operations. If education is to be made univtml in towns 
voluntary benevolence* it will not be one great* but by many 
email and successive exertions* The thing will be acconpiiahed 
piecemeal ; and what never could be done through the working of 
one vast and unwieldy mechanisni* may thus be cximpieted most easi- 
ly* in the course of a single generation. But the spirit of benevo^ 
lence will not be evaporated amon^ ail these difficulties ; It will only 
be nurtured into greater strength* and guided into a path of truer wis* 
dom* and sobered into a habit of more humble* and* at the same time* 
far more cfiective perseverance. Man will at lengdi learn to become 
more practical* and less imaginative, lie will hold it a worthier 
achievement to do for a little neighbourliood* than to devise for a 
whole world. He will give himself more assiduously to the object 
within his reach* and trust that there are other men and other means 
Ibr accomplishing the objects that are beyond it. The gloiy of 
establishing in our world, tliat universal reign of truth and of right- 
eousness whieii is coming, will not be tlie glory of any one man ; but 
it will be the glory of Him who sitteih above* and ptieth his many 
miHioos of instruments for bringing about this magnificent resedt. It 
is enough for each of us to be one of these instrunaents* to contribute 
his little kem to the cause* and look for tlie sum total as the product 
of innumerable contributions* etch of them as meritorious* and numy 
of them* perhafw* far more s^endid and importaiM; tlian bis own, * 
jto. 142-168. 

the details iolo which we have already enteredt it a|H> 
sufficiently maotfes^ that the lawgiver who was 
ififm to frame a system of Nati<mal Education iu thwp 

^Ip4nrie$ ago* ana the L^kdature of the pi^esent day* whea 
vising a plan for supplying the want pf ^ucatipn in 
had very different tasks to perform. In Scotland, tWe were 

198$^ 7]lr NmPtm ^ 2S9- 

bftrdigr my meam «f imtroc^ (^nemUy diSnmai; kt emsry 
put of Enghtni saboalaf'mre ftow planted ; aiid 
cipal difficulties is ther^ore to accommodate the Mir oIm to 
ibe existing order ctf things, so as to improve and ecmnrm it, 
and to make that which is created harmonhee and not conflict 
with that which already exists^ Another difficulty arises fronv 
the greater proportion of dissenters in EMland, and the greater 
diflerenee of their tenets. But wMi reference to the period 
v^en the Scotch Parish Schools were first attempted to be 
planted, this circumstance does not in reality create so great a 
distinclidh ; because, although now the Scotcli Seceders differ 
chiefly from the church on matters of discipliBe, and those fornt 
the bulk of the dissidents fi'om the establish^ cburcli ; yet, 
during the whole of the seventeenth century Scotland was divid-' 
ed into religious parties^ remarkable for their mutual rancour, 
and differing most widely in all tlicir tenets. The exhausted 
State of the country, from excessive taxation, the grievous amount 
of the parish rates above all, and the admitted ineqiialky with 
which those press already upon the landed interest, may be 
stated as an additional obstacle to the favourable reception of 
any phoi which must to a certain, though doubtless an inconsi* 
derable degree, occasion at least a temporary increase of those 
burthens. We shall now proceed to describe the jirinciplcs of 
Mr Brougham’s plan, as gathered from the Dills before Parlia- 

It consists of four great branches, the natirrc and connexion 
of which may be best understood by supposing we had a dis- 
trict to improve by teaching. Tliv^prsl object would be to find 
t)ic means of providing a school, and endowing it witli a suffi- 
cient salaiy. The nea:t would be to find a proper master, and 
U) keep him in the regular performance of his duty. The thtfd 
would be to admit scholars upouprof>er terms, and to preset ibc 
the fit method of educating tluan. The school being thus plant- 
ed, endowed, placed under a master, and filled with scholai s, 
there would only remain the task of examining how the endow- 
ments for education formerly existing in the district might be 
made most available for the purpose, either by connecting them 
wWi the new school, or* by otherwise improving them. The 
same order in#]iitry q>p)les to the whole country, and gives 
rise to the whole arrangements of the plan. Tha^ firsi branch, 
then, is the Establishment of schools — ^tfae second^ the appohit- 
iMOt, viritation and removal of masters — the third, the admission 
and taitkm of sekafars— the fowih, the improvement of old 
•Mimenis, Hie three flht branches fonn the subjects of one 
bill t the last ft tnettted of in the other bilh 


m^be queOioii 

jb«iunmi4» tbCne:sadii^ i»«a^«Mk4t^ tried hefixne 
Aome tribojwAs* «iwi If ite Jaiitoent sbaji ffiVimlli 
iavocHT of t^e propatftl, ik^ mAmn tmist H devUed^ 
or 4»arryiii&r it ipto eifeet Tbu» jtbe firrt Vdndb 
divides* itself into idliree--*tbe nmi^\7g^ mp endtWkqil^ 
fic 0 of the proposition for plentitig a e&0Ol pr eci^fo^ in «ulf 
ecdcskstiffiiil district^ that K anj groat parish or 

!• The Bill lays down two wa}^ in which tiie qi^a|i^in)ii^ 
ho raised or moved. A dcmplaint may be madb kf ppf^ 

aoos that there is no school, or no sufficient achooh m the dk* 
trict, and that One, two, or three schools are requirea for xha nso 
of the inhabitants; or an application may be made by ^e*prk 
vate cotkductors and owners of schools already carriea cat, and^ 
iailinff for waul of means, to place them iip>i| the footing os 
parish schools, on ceitain connitions. It is necessary, iq ordi^ 
to insure the complaint being made, that various persons shouid 
be aulhorixed to prefer it« Accordingly, it may proceed, either 
from the Grand Jury at quarter se<«Kioit8, who may pmsnr, as 
it w'cre, themselves, or may adopt the complaint made to thesn 
by any hou8eholdei>-or from the resident officiating minister of 
tJic district*— or from two justices — or from five householders. 
If none of these persons can be found to complain, we may be 
assured a school is not wanting in the place, either in the judgi- 
iiAent of tlic inhabitants, or of the county at large. In order to 
make an application^ the minister, or two justices, or five house* 
holders, must concur with the conductors or moster of the 
private school. Both Complaints and applications are to be 
made after four weeks’ notice in the parish church or chapel^ 
and upon the doors. Two or more small districts may be join* 
edin the propc^il, the consents being here varied, so as to in* 
chide all the ministerd, and only: to require tlire^ houa^boldera 
of each. 

The trial is to be by the Justices at $ession% and thrir 
decision to be final on all points referred to them. The parish 
or diapelry officers are to defend if they think fit, or i* retired 
by five householders ; but the Justices may award the oosts to 
emer party. They may order schools to be provided, not ex* 
deeding three for any district ; so that if several dijbtricts are 
joNied, and a school is provided for them in cbinL'*nnf i^d if, 
siiMwards, fiom inct^eased population, more scfaoote be 
watited, still the number of parish schools shall not exceed threw 
fill eadit of the district$« The master’s salary ia likewise 
’ 2 

mW'to Ve 

ty ; but hfc g<:;;racn ; 04*, if 

not be had) *an altowm^ie fcir h) or not more than MAtf trtae 
‘ less than four l^ounds a }*oar. No chanji^ of aislary «rte be 
tnade dnrimy any firtiastet^s inciin^>eucy ; but* wlien the pl^ ta 
tracant, (h’O persons paying achoc^ rates ^nay, at a meeting wah 
notice^ augment tTio sala^^ by any ^nni not exceeding twenty 
poundS) provided rtirec-nmrths of tho meeting concur- The 
Srt^fjatrs of the school are to be made by the parish officer^ as 
far as tqn pounds in two yoaiv; but, if more be wanted, a com- 
frfaint ntnst bo oiadc either by the master, or, during a vacancy, 
by the persons authorized to move, with the same iif>ttces, and 
triable in like m inner as the coipplaint for providing a sebooi* 
In all trials, the Education Digest msy be given in evidence; 
but It may be explained or rebutted by other proof- 

S. The Justices nre to issue their warrant, which authorhcea 
tho minister and officers to obtain, from the Receiver-general of 
of (he eoiiniy, the sum specified for house and garden ; and 
this rs to be repaid to him by the Treasury, so far as 200/.; any 
thing over that to be paid out of the county rate. If atiy per- 
liorf'S property is recjuired, ho must have mvi notice, so as to 
oppose the order oi Session^, if he thoui^ht fit ; and a jury in 
the iiiuial way, but from a neighbouring district, is to assess tlie 
damages, if he is to part with k. The parish tiflicers are not 
'to be concerned, under a peratty, in any building, alteration 
<fi repairs, or in selling any building or land, without the esti« 
itidte of the comity surveyor. TIjc master’s salary ami repairs 
art; to be levied, fike other parish rates, upon the land owners. 
The fteehold of the house atid gtgtlen is to be in the master ; 
but be is dot to vote at decctons of Aienibere of Parliament, ia 
rU^ed; of it. 

li. The school being thus published and endowed, in or- 
cter tdr secure its being mwaya 1»ught by a fit master, it is clear 
that ttieaiis must be mwised ibr requiring a proper mah/tcatzon 
ifil^^amdidat^ for him by proper auuionty, and 

fee sttp^itttending, or vnkmg mm during his incumbency, oc 
prevMtinghim fi^m contmuing longer in office than while he 
shall be fit for it The Second 'Drauch, therefore, subdivtdses 
ithelf into three parts — the mutykaUm and the eiedmi of the 
nfhatet, and the visitation of the school. 

li No person can, either be i^ointed mai^ter to a school pro- 
vided nptni eomfdaint, or oondnued in a school made a parish 
seboal by application, who is un ler 24 or almve 40 years of ag% 
Aid who has not a certificate to his good character, and being a 
inembA' of IlfiS B^tabllshed: Charoh, b*om the residbnc minister 
vox., xxxkv. NO. 67. Q 

t4t Jbtg. 

and two housdioiderb of the ppridi in which he kat midedp 
Parish clerks are declared elt^pi^ as schoolms^lers; but the a& 
ficiati^ minister of the district Is ineligible. 

Ine persons paying school rate, and the authorized agents 
of surh as are absent, and have lOoL a year^n the parish, a»e 
to mei't, after a month’s notice, in the schoolhouse,”and choose 
a master ; the senior church-warden presiding, determining ail 
djoputes as to votes, reading the certificates, and other test!- 
moinsls of the candidates^; having a casting vote in cose o£ etpta^ 
ality, and reporting to the officiating minister the tiame of the 
person elected. Une minister is then to examine him 'and his 
certificate, and to notify to the church -warden his approval or 
rejection. If he rejects, a new election is to take place ; if be 

S proves, the election is complete* Where, upon applicaidoii^ 
e premises of the pnvate senool are either given over £ar no* 
thing, or for less than their value, to theparum, the justices map 
ordm* the former master to be continued, if duly qualified, and n 
approved hj the minister r but all future vacancies are to be 
filled up in the manner already pointed out. 

S. Tlie Ordinary may visit all the Parish Schools within iiis 
diocese, either in person, or by the Dean within hU deanery, 
the Chancellor within the diocese, or the Archdeacon within 
the diocese or his archdeaconry, where it is divided. And the 
actual Visitor may remove the master, or may superannuate him^ 
after fifteen years’ service, with a pension equal to two-thirds of 
bis salary, subject to an appeal to the Metropolitan, if the Or- 
t^avy vints, or to the Ordinary, if any other person is the ac- 
tnal visitaor. The Ordinary is to report yearly the state ef the 
idhooh in Ms diocese in the returns requited by the Resideiioa 
Acts, 4>5 & 57 Geo. III. ; and the officiating minister is>^to huM 
mccesB at all times to the schools in his parish, for the psarpose 
of examining^em. 

III. The Third Branch rekting to tiie Scholars, sobdivides 
kself into two parts — their admimon and tuitwon. » 

I. The minister, with the advice of the diurch-wardcna, is ta 
fix Ae rate of quarter pence as often as the place of master m 
vacant; and that rate is not to exceed fourpence^ nor be tern 
ften one penny a week. The children of paupers oiw in all 
caMto pay a penny; and the minister, wim the advieeof die 
elil^rs, may recommend any very poor child to be admitted 
atithout paying. No distinction whatever is to be made hidbe 
treatment of the cbildjren ; and if die master t eae hea et^etttna 
boit^ or extra learning, he is se agree ae he pieaem^dilbi tlm 
parties. f*|f < 

The minister cm eadi vacancy is to fix the MMlte 

ing, not exceeding^eight, nor lees Uum six hours adey; aadthe* 


tinte df vacation^ not exceeding twice a year^ and a fertnight 
eiurh time, or one monA if taken at one time. Reading, width 
ing and accc^nts nreto be taught in each school; and tm <naev 
‘ inr may hire an usher to assist him, with the minister’s ap{)ro» 
bation^ Tim Bible is to be taught, and no other religious book^ 
No boolfr whatever is to be taught without the minister's consent; 
hnd be may direct such passages of Scripture as ho thinks fit to 
be taught among others selected by the master. No religious 
worsiiip is to be used except supfa as may consist in saying or 
icadin^tfae Lord’s Prayer, or other portions of Scripture. The 
Ghtlrch catechism is to be taught one halfday in the week, andf 
if the tnimster directs it, also on the Sunday evening; and the 
scholars are to attend the parish church, with the master, or with 
those having care of them, once every Sunday. But if anjr 
parent or otbm- person having care of a child, notifies to the 
master that be dedres the child not to attend the parish church 
or she school nicetings when the Catechism is taught, the mas<«' 
icr b strictly commanded not to punish, rebuke, admonish, or 
otherwise molest the child for his absence, 
iil V« WIiMi we consider the state of old endowments, the de-- 
(rUs in their constitution or in their management present them- 
sahres in different classes. Some foundations me in abeyance 
Sat watft of trustees, who have either died out altogether, or 
been reilooed below the quorum appointed to fill up vacancies. 
*in otiiers, the property of the Institution is ill managed with a 
view to revenue^ or security, or convenience, iK>m want of powers 
in the managers to deal with it. In inm»y, the funds actmdlv 
enjoyed are applied in a manner little calculated to accomplhh 
the objects of the foundation ; and in not a few, thase objects 
have miled in whole or in part, through changes in the state of 
sactely generally, or in the cirouiustHnces of the neigiib<iurbqofJ^ 
so as to leave the whole, or a part of the funds, unofipUed* To 
fwovide die general means of remedying ail tb^ defects, with- 
out the necessij^ of applying to Parliament in each case, is tbf 
4d>fector the ^urth Aranra of«the Plan; which accordingly 
Mitidivides itseli into foui' parts, beside a fifth, intended to cfaecs 
arid prevent any abuse in the appiication of the remedy itse]|L 
^iia these five subdivisions relate to the &UiU'e of 
uapfoiwd adminifftratiou of fmds — the improved appUcattim 
hf fiifide-Hdie faihire of a^>c/a-^and tiie cke^s upon the fnisnse 
fiilw^ptwoediM remedies. The Bill relates only to endows 
vuntsuraii^^ wldl education; but its provisions are cquilly 
app H W Mi ebiH»liw>whali»v^rt and it will most probably 
1^ extended to them, when it has been adopted with respect to 
fiWitlnmn ^ 

. * Q 2 


24* The Plan tf Education for. EngUtn^ Aug, 

1. Whqre the number of the trustees has been reduced below 
the quorum, the remairitog 'tru^ees arc allbweid to fill up tlie 
vacancies; where all are gone, the special visitor, if there be 
one, may name; where there is none, the founder’s hdr nttay 
name; where he can’t be found, the clerk of the peaCe may 
hold the legal estate, if above five pounds a year; and any three 
commissioners of charity abuses, if under five pounds. 

2. Trustees are allowed to sell, mortgage, pledge, or cxchange,- 
for repairs, or for improvement of tno revenue or property; 
the price being always paid into the hands of the county receiv- 
er, or accountant-general, who are only to pay it over upon jin 
order from a court of equity, or from the charity commissioners, 
and to pay it back to the purchaser, if the sale is nUt allowed. 
A declaratory clause is added against trustees being parties to 
any such transactions, or to any lease of the trust-property. 

3. Managers of endowed grammar schools arc declared tty 
have power to bargain with masters already appointed for teach- 
ing reading, writing and accounts, beside grammar ; to appoint 
masters, on future vacancies, with the condition of their st> 
teaching ; to bargain with existing masters, or prescribe a con- 
dition to the future masters to teach more than the numbers dr 
classes limited by the foundation, and to take a limited number 
of boarders, or none at all. Managers of charities arc empoiver* 
cd to confine them to teaching, where the numbers appointetl 
to be clothed, or boarded, or Judged, cannot be so maintained ; 
and the provisions of the Mortmain Act are prospectively ex- 
tended to personal estates given or left for clothing, boarding, or 
lodging children. Managers ofeducation funds, where no schcol 
is built, are empowered to apply them in aid of parish schook, 
fulfilling the purposes of the endowment ; and where children 
of one parish are appointed to be educated in another, thb’ ma- 
nagers are empowered to educate them at the school's of their 
own parish. Managers of endowed schools are cmpd'iWfei^d to 
make applications^ as in Branch I., to put them on the' fcofitig 
of parish schools ; the master to be appointed as in BhlhCh 11. 
Where the funds arc insufficient to afford their full s^alary, and 
■where they are sufficient, the masters to be always appdinted as 
directed in the endowment, subject only to the quaJification, 
and to the approbation of the Ordinary ; but in all otheir re- 
spects, the school is to be subject to the regulations of thtlse acts, 
except that tlie visitation shall be in the special visitor, if there 
be one. 

4. Where the object of an endowment has failed itx whoJe or 
part, the managers may propmnd d ^eme^ either 'to t court of 
•equity, or to the charity comuiisiiion^i:^ for applying the vrhdlq 

liSSb. 7%^ Plan oj Pivcation for England* 2i5 

£ands^ or thq unapplied surplus, in providing parish sctioola; 
the scheme K) be approved by those tribunals, cither wholh^ or 
• u:itli such alterations as the propounders may assent to. Ihey 
inay direct the planting of schools; and, if the fund is inade- 
quate to provide the whole salaries, application may be made lo 
supply the deficiency, as in Branch I., with the same consents 
and notices. If the fund is sufficient to pay the whole salary 
of any school, the appointment of master may be directed to 
be always as directed in the endowment, subject to the appro- 
bation of the Ordinary ; and to his visitation, as in Branch II., 
except where there is a special visitor ; in which case, he shall 
both approve and visit. 

5. Nothing under this Fourth Branch can be done without 
three niontlis notice on the church-doors and schoolhousc, if 
any school is concerned; and a memorandum of whatever is 
done must be filed by the clerk of *tlie peace one month after- 
wards, and open to ail for a shilling fee. Any two persons what- 
ever may petition, either before or within two months after any 
tiling is done, under tlie S2 Geo. IIL, unless it has been done 
}^y the Justices, or a court of equity, or the Charity Commission- 
ers; and the court may prohibit or rescind. Wlierevcr there 
k a Special Visitor, his consent must be had ; and where there 
k none, that of either the Ordinary or Metropolitan. Where- 
eycr any school is built, or endowed, or aided out of any fund, 
the donor’s name, and dates of the foundation and improve- 
ment, are to be carved upon the building. Scotland, Ireland, 
and the Universities, and great public schools, are except^ 
iicoin botli acts. 

. The plan of which we have now given a faithful sketch, af- 
fords much matter of remark, and is quite certain lo produde 
some controversy. Upon its various details, and even upon the 
. leading principles which have regulated its construction, we shall 
at present forbear to comment ; and shall our attention, 
in the little that remains of lliis article, to the portion of it which 
is likely, to create the most difference of opinion — we mean, Ae 
connexiion between the proposed Establishment forNatioruilEdu- 
cation, and the existing Church Establishment. Nor shall we 
„now gO'through even the whole of this subject ; for although it 
. is possible that some persons may object to tlie principle of leav- 
ing the parish schools open to Dissenters, by excluding, for the 
jne^tp^t, sneb religious instruction as would prevent any con- 
fsqientmus.sect^y from sending his children there, yet we can 
hardly an^eijpa^ any con^crable stress being laid upon so un- 
’ just and intolerant a doctrine ip the present day. If tlie whole 
community is to pay for the school, to the whole community it 

246 The Uetto Plan ^ 'Education jhr Ettgliktd. Atig. 

should in all reason and faiifn^ess be. open ; and surely no rational 
or liberal member of the CHureti would cotiteitd <for such ati 
arrangement as should, increase the burthens already borne by 
Diiisenters in support of an Establishment, froin the benefits of 
which they are necssarily excluded — burthens justified by thehr 
abstdutc necessity in regard to the P^stablishcd Church, but for 
that reason U) be ciirricdno further than the necessity prescribl^s. 
It is rather from an opposite ijuarter that we anticipate sonfe 
objections'; we moan I'lorn the Dissenters, who appear already 
to have conceived an alarm, rmd who, we cannot help thinking, 
have been misled in the notions they liavc formed of the mef 
sure. Pci’Jiaps many of the most liberal among that most res 
spcctable class of nten, may be convinced of the mistakes under 
w^IiicJi they have laboured, by attending to the foregoing ana- 
lysis of the measure. But we shall, w'ith the utmost deference, 
and the most sincere good-wnll towards the whole body, pro- 
ceed to submit a few additional remarks upon this interesting 
topic, in order still further to remove the existing misappre- 

First of all, it is to be observed, that the Plan in question pro- 
fessedly and openly connects itself with the Church Establish- 
ment; it avws and claims this alliance ; so that they make no 
discove?}, and still less detect any hidden design in its con- 
struction, who charge it with such a connexion, or maintain 
. Ip^at its tenilciicy is to give the clergy an influence uport the edn-' 
cation of yoiitli. But let us only attend to the strong reasons 
which exist for this arrangement. When a new system is to bo 
established of so extensive a description, it is most natural to 
wish that it should be engrafted upon one already existing, and 
which has been coeval with the existence of the Government, 
nothing can tend more to give solidity and permanence to the 
fabric we are rearing, than building it on such a foundation. 
Again, the new system is to be local in all its arrangements, 
end to have its seat in the particular districts of the country; 
Would any man reject the known and ancient division of the 
kingdom into parishes and chapelries, in ordtT to subdivide it 
anew', by cutting it into squares, like some of the mo&t specula- 
tive reformers, or splitting it into little compartments, with a 
pond or maypole in each, as the French divided their country 
mto larger departments, by rivers and mountains ? Theparo- 
diial division, moreover, is analogous to the one required in its 
ob}i‘ct; the one refers to the neig^ibourhood of the cnurch, 'and 
the residence of the parson; the,^othef to the position of the «• 
schtmlhouse ami dwelling,. of ihe.rin,e.ster. To jtak^ eccd6* 
siastical distribution of the coiintiy, thet^l*e| was a mat*^ 

Ift20. TSe 2^fe» Plan qf Education for England. 247 

ter of course. JButas the school and church boundaries were 
to he^the saine^ it followed that the living partfe of the Plwi, iis 
werip, might correspond with great convenience. But a cett- 
iain mechjtnism was to be found, or made, for electing the mai^ 
Jter; and .if one could conveniently be found, that was a good 
reason for not making it. Were it not better to use the church- 
wardens already known to the law, and accustomed to parochial 
offices, than to contrive new functionaries for calling meetings, 
levying rates, and looking after buildings or repairs ? The mas- 
ter, wi^n once elected, was to be superintended by some higher 
authority. The Ordinary of the diocese, with his assistants, 
has already the superintendence of each parish yuoad. sacra ; 
and nothing could l>c. more convenient than to vest in the same 
known quarter the visitation of tlie schools. Some inspectioa 
was desirable os to lesser particulars ; and a person of learning 
and character being already established in each district, was it 
fit to reject liis services because he also ha])pened to have the 
C^re of religion widiin the same bounds ? Discretion and au- 
thority in all these particulars, and in others which we have 
fitted above, was to be vested in some persons ; and those mu^ 
be persons of responsible character, known to the publick, ac- 
customed to instruction, of sufficient learning themselves, and, 
above all, persons perpetually existing, by continued uninter- 
rupted succession. Could any thing have been more absurd^ 
timu to pas? over the parochial clergy, who seemed made for 
the very purpose, there being necessarily one of the body 
each district where such a functionary was required ? Surely 
the strongest reasons must be urged against this arrangement, 
tq justify the Legislature in hesitating about taking advantage 
of a machinery ready made, and so peculiarly adapted to the 
purpose. We are now only arguing upon the ground of con- 
venience; and purposely because this is a ground on which 
the roost rigid Dissenter from the Establishment may, consist- 
ieixtly end conscientiously, meet the members of it ; and if they 
hve a common object in view, the Education of tlie People, they 
musjl concur in adopting that plan which most easily and per- 
manently secures tlie object by means of existing institutions, 
unless it can be shown thjit serious evils are likely to arise front 
seei^ing such aid in such a quarter. Let us see then what those 
dangers are which the Dissenter may apprehend. 

He objects, first of all, to the increased power which this 
plsSn will give to the Churchy and, if any considerable power 
^ were, so conferred by \U he would have a perfect right to feel 
* tMs repjignaiqce.^ But w^e cannot help thinking that he ^eatly 
pyctTati^ itl l^otliing can be nrtre fidlawus than to suppose 

A*#, , 

that the vet^ tlje pftrsiW wijl give hiaa^he choice of ifce, 

niabter. AH Ae ;hous4v?W^ fine, to elect; amV put the eai» t 
relh'd oa a$ pir^ibie, ie sodne parts of llie cmjnuy^ iliai 

the wjpji ity of Ac inhabitants are Dissenters, bow can the par** 
cver.conipd them to elect the man of his clujice?. It Is 
truCj tl^at they cannot coijjpel him to approve Ae iiKin of;A€ir 
choice; byt ^oes uc^ every one at all £icquainted with sucli 
.matters know, that, in practice, such dift’erences always end in a 
coinpromisc ? The electors may not succeed in carrying their 
mat), and the parson will assuredly not carry bis; but v some 
third person will be eiken, pn)hably better adapted Jor the 

{ )lace, at least free from the chief objections wh'ch one party 
iini to oncli ul the oilier two. Bui such coiitroveisics will be 
ra»'e; and practically the matter will be accommodated : hen?- 

ever the minister lives on pocul terms with lib flock, his advice 
will have its weight on the one hand, and their w^bhes will weigh 
with him on the other. For let it be observed, that the 7CS7dvnt 
and qfficiutiv^f minister alone is to imerlere, cither in the elec- 
tion or in any other part of the Plan ; — and there is a much bet-f 
ter security against contentions and jarrings between him and 
*the parish, than between the nonresident iiiciunbent, and tliose 
who only know him by paying tithes. But it is said that the 
master will bo a more creature of the parson. N4>thing can be 
moi’c uiifbuTKled than such a fear. 'J'lie nionient he is elected 
and approved, he holds ids office peHectly independent ; and 
care is Mken in Ae Plan to prevent the least influence from be- 
ing exercised over him by the parson, who has no authority 
whatever to interlero as io either salary, or hours, or v:4cations, 
e;^cept when die jilace of master is vacant. Every arrangement 
is made during that vacancy, and is to last as long as the nias- 
tc^r continues in office. * 

The, Bishop, however, maybe said to exercise more effec- 
tual controul oyer the master. But this is very different from 
a JcKal power. Practically sjjeaking, how can a parish schoob 
master so far come in contact with tlie diocesan as to make 
him swerve, through private pique, from the line ol impartial 
justice? Besides, the Bishop acts in this, as in all cases of vi- 
sitation, upon his responsibility; he is before the world; his 
conduct maybe canvassed; and ParJianient isopen to com- 
plaints if he abuses his power. Nor must it be forgoUea, that 
no sentence of removal can be carried into effect without Ac 

^ ^ — ^ ^ ^ 

♦ The authority given tjo the parsQU to approve of an uAer, seem 
Ae only exception ro Ais principle, introducfd probably from ne^' 
cessaty ; but ap appeal may be giyeg.tP thiaiiBpe* . t 

rarely iwVcteti^ed tb^ caae and lizard the partis i^f4:ir, 
thw'powors'ot' the iatirt of law. would compel 

hear berfbrc they cletern^Kiedi Is it eo’vtpnded tbnt the Bish^op^ 
will iHsnusfe;«chooh‘n tutors wM do n *t favour thoir own' views 
of tetuporalpoHcy^ or teUgimis doci^ ifie? But the Plan wisely 
excludes the Master from nil share n political contests, by de- 
privinjj him o( a vote; and it is difficnit to discern in what -way 
he can influence the religions opinions of his scholars, when he 
is not allowed to teach any I'eligioir; book but that to which all 
sects ecpially appeal. And this leads ns to the grand objection 
of all — the fear tlnit all diildron will be made Churchmen, whe- 
ther tlioy nnd their parents will or no. 

Now’, wc own ourstdves unable to perceive by vrhat means 
this process of conversion tan be carried on. Children at the 
early ago of five or six, and even as old as eight or nine, are 
surely not very likely to imbibe the principles of one creed rather 
than amalier ; nor, if they should receive any slight impressions 
in favour of particular forms or d<’Ctrines, are they very likely to 
retain ihein ui their liper years. Will not any man of ordinary ^ 
sense lie persuaded, that, as far as regards tlic sect to which a 
child shall lx)lnng, hi?; tuition umler eleven or twelve years of 
age is of veiy trifl ng imporrance, compared with what ho learns 
after that period of life ? Wo by no means undervalue the use- 
iulness ot' early, even of the earliest, religious impressions. We 
are aw'arc thai the infant mind may be imbued with a sense of 
the great truths of religion — those truths which all sects equally 
admit !!7id revere in common. Wc grant, too, ihat habits of 
decent respect for (he outward oixlinance*^ of religion, the cere- 
inoniat of a jiarticular churcl), may be formed at a very tender 
age. But wc cannot imagine that the nice points on which' 
Churchmen and Setiaries difl’er, are very likely to occupy a 
child’s attention, or to engrave ihcmseives on his memory, at 
least to the exclusion of liis reason and reflexion upon further 
inquiry in after life. 8ujiposing, then, that the New Plan took 
no f)recautions at all to prevent one doctrine more than another 
from being tnught, or one form of woi"ship rather than another 
from being adopted, in the parish schools, wc are clearly of opw 
nion that the cliildren of Dissenters educated there would not 
on that account be made converts from the faith of their pa- 
r^s, and wimld only learn that respect for the ordinances and 
observances of the Church which the best and wisest of tlie body 
^ have never failed to pay, even while they differed. But it U 
tnost fir that the matter should not rest here : it is most just that 
• the staples of the parents shbald be consulted, and that the 

C50 The Nm Plm ^ Education for Ik^ani. Aug. 

schools for which all pay should be open, to the children of 
all, without the possibility of the most lender conscience being 
hurt by talking advantage of the institution. The Plan appears, 
to remove every ground of cavil on this head. The Bible a- 
lone 5 of all books of religion, is sui&rcd to be taught; no fcmn 
of prayer, except that which all Christians use alike, is to be 
adopted ; the Catechism of the Church is only to be taught at 
an hour when the children of dissenting parents may ^ent 
themselves; and attendance at church is to be perfectly volun- 
tary also. Is it not uncandid to represent this arrangement as 
excluding Dissenters from the benefit of the Institution ? The 
Churchmen might as well say, that because the Catechism is not 
taught daily, and because the Liturgy is not daily read, there- 
fore they cannot conscientiously send their children to the pa- 
rish schools. It is plain that as much is required from the one 
as from the other, iu the way cd* mutual sacrifice, for the sake of 
a common benefit to all. 

Still the Dissenters contend tliat the system is clerical ; that 
the priests and bishops have too great sway in it ; and that they 
cannot take the bkiefit of such a scheme. Yet, who ever 
thought of carrying this refinement into any of the other esta- 
blishments coimcctecl far more intimately with the Church ? 
Do not conscientious Dissenters send I heir children to the uni- 
versities and piiblick schools, which me completely ecclesiasti- 
cal in all their branches ? They will not, indeed, permit them 
to take degrees which require subscription to the thirty-nine 
Articles; but the rest of the academical course they freely allow 
tlicin to pursue. Nay, why should the Dissenters refuse to give 
their chiki education at a school, because a part of the Churcli 
has had some concern in the choice of the master, any more 
chan they abstain from employing a Catholic to teach musick, 
pr Freiick or Italian, in the upper classes of society, or in it$ 
humbler walks refuse parish relief from the hands of tlie minis- 
ter and parish officers ? Let the evidence of some eminent seo 
tarians before the Education Committee be examined, where 
they are questioned upon llie principle adopted in the Report 
of J 8 18, and pursued in Mr Brougham’s Plan. It is very in- 
structive ; for it shows tliat the only argument which they ad- 
duce, when pressed to state the bad consequences apprehended 
from the controul of the Church over the school, is the dread 
that the fittest' master would not always be chosen. Npw sup- 
pose this to be true in a still greater degree than ^tbey hav« 
stated ; suppose that the fittest were never chosen ; we still ^ 
venture to suggest, that teaching young children to read, writer 
^ cipher, is not the most difficjdt q£ <sl11 task% .but onf which * 

^ "a ^ 

• 7%e JVfWJ Flan of Education for Englaf^. SSt 

a rAan of good charftcis^r and ordinary accomplishments may be 
able to perfcrm ; and that, llierefore, no very enormous niis- 
. chief would enKue either to the Uisseiiter or to the cause of edu- 
cation,’ were the most cornjHJtent person passed over, and an 
infcrioi* artiKt ’ajifpointed, provided he could do the work ; for 
surely no man will pretend to be afraid that tlie system can 
end ki chusing a set of masters who can neither write nor read, 

ITic Dissenters, or rather some among that worthy and re- 
spectable Body, have decrit^d all attempts BtK?stablishmg a na- 
tional system oi education as superfluous. They have alleged, 
that Mr Brougham greatly overr ites the defects in the existing 
means of instruction ; for, it seems, ‘ they are convinced, by 
their own inquiries, that those means are not defleienU ’ Jjure- 
ly it can hardly be admitted, that this is the language of candid 
reasoners, only seeking after the truth. Surely it is somewhat 
too much to claim from the publick an implicit confidence in 
the result of such * inquiries. * Mr Brougham’s statements are 
the numerical results of an inquiry curried on for years among 
the persons best able to report the state of "education in each 
village and hamU'l of the Island. Those persons have, by the 
most minute details of matters within their own knowledge, en- 
abled him to state the exact numbers of schools actually exist- 
ing, and the number of children actnally taught in eacL Ei- 
ther the Population of the country has fallen away three mil- 
lions within the last few years, or the deficit is what he has 
stated to Parliament; unless hicieed the objectors mean to deny 
the truth of the Parochial lletittns, and to charge all the clergy 
of the country, to the numl>cr of twelve thousand, with a con- 
spiracy to understate themirnberof schools or of children taught. 
Those who set up against such documents as these, their ^ rea- 
son to think ’ from ‘ their inquiries, ’ in common justice to the 
magnitude of such a subject, should have recollected that those 
with whom they were tiifFering had inquired also, and that tlicy 
had shown, in full detail, the grounds of their ‘ reasons for 
thinking’ the most lamentable deficiency existed. 

It has also been said, in a manner if possible more vague and 
gratuitous, that it would be hard if the Dissenters, who educate 
ail their own children, were compelled to contribute towards the 
education of others. They require no new system of instruc- 
tion, \t seems, themselves, and are quite content with the pre- 
sent stale of things. ’J^'hese assertions are easily made^ and, un- 
questiohabiy, they come either from persons profoundly igno- 
i font of the'lruth, or hostile to the Plan, for reasons which they 
are unwilling to avow; for nothing ever was more unfounded 
);his staiu^nent. middling dasses of Dissenters educate 

M2 The Neis) Plan of Education for England. Aug. 

their own children like their neighbours of the same class in so- 
ciety. 'l''he wealthier members of the body, too, haye been most 
laudably zealous in affording, by their chariuiblc contributions^ 
the blessings of instruction to many of their poorer brethren. 
Thus the various schools established on the British and Foreign 
Society’s plan, receive many thousands of tlieir children, as well 
os of the children of churchmen. But it is neither true that Dis- 
senters alone support those schools, nor that all their poor, or 
any thing like it, receive the needful portion of instruction. 
There are whole districts in London and its neighbourhood, 
and in all Uic great towns of Lancashire, Yorkshire, Chesliire, 
Leicestershire and Lincolnshire, where the Dissenters form a 
considerable proportion of the population, and where the means 
of education are wanting to their poo)‘, as well as to the other 
classes of poor, in the same, or nearly the same, proportions. 
While we admit how much this respectable body of men have 
done for education, let us not forget, in the present argument, 
how much has been done by the piety and benevolence of the 
Lstablishmont. The Digest sliow’s that permanent endowments 
exist in England, w'ith a revenue, at this moment, of above 
ii00,000/. a year, but which is worth, if duly improved, and all 
property included, near half a million, which already afford edu- 
cation to 1(55,000 children, and might, with ease, instruct 
SJOOjOOO ; and it is certain that this magnificent work is all rais- 
ed by the hands of cliurclimcn, who have thus for ever provided 
the means of educating two millions of the people. Were we 
to reason upon the pi inciples •adopted by those whom we are 
now most reluctantly forced to combat, we shoultl be entitled to 
contend, that such good works of the Church well entitled her 
to confidence in this question. At least they who argue that no 
scheme should be adopted against the wishes of tlie Dissenters, 
because those w orthy and conscientious men have done so much 
for education tlieinselves, may fairly be met by a statement of 
how much more has been done by the Establishment; and all 
the pains taken, and zeal displayed by the resident parochial 
clergy in helping the labours of the Education Committee, may 
well be appealed to in further support of the same ai’gumcnt. 

To conclude, we firmly believe that we have now been niieet- 
ing the reasons of a few only among them ; and we most earnest- 
ly implore the Dissenters at large to turn a deaf car towards any 
restless agitators who may, on the present important ocf;nsion, 
aeek the means of gratifying their own spleen or vanity by fb- 
incnting suspicions and ill will among their more respect^^^e 
and conscientious brethren. It is not very easy, howevo: nle^- 
ing it might be, to refuse our l>elief to the suggestion, tn^t a- 

1820. The New Plan of Education for England* 253 

mong the reasons which have been urged in diiFercnt quarters, 
there are some on which those who iis-ecl them for tlie purposes 
of controversy did not place ajiy reliance; and that other mo- 
tives dictated the opposition which those arguments were em- 
ployed to justify. The body of the Dissenters never can so far 
shut their i^res to all that passes around them, as to believe thdt 
all the poor are well educated — or even all their own poor: nor 
can they so far forget all their own principles of pure and en- 
lightened charity, as to be lukewarm upon the cpiestion of a 
plan for universal instruction. What dicydo not really be- 
lieve, they are wholly incapable of maintaining as a cover for 
what they chuse not to avow. A more honest body of men 
exists not in the world, nor one more devoted to the cause of 
civil liberty, and more desirous of promoting the improvement 
of their id low-creatures. To them at large we should fearless- 
ly appeal, even if the question were about founding, at the ex- 
pense of the whole community, a system which could only give 
full instruction to the children of all churchmen ; because they 
know so w^ell the infinite importance of even this good to the 
whole State, and to its liberties, religious as' well as civil, that 
they would cheerfully contribute their share* towards the attain- 
ment of it, and overlook the injustice of being made to pay for 
benefits from which their own sect were excluded. 

Why <lo we express such a confidence in their liberality ? Be- 
cause tliey arc at once enlightened and humane — but also because 
we never heard of their raising any serious objection either to the 
annual grants to the poor clergj^, or to the million lately voted for 
building churches, to whicli they contributed their share, although 
without the possibility of benefiting by it — nay, with the avowed 
reason of the grant before their eyes, that the want of churches 
multiplied sectaries. Can we doubt that, in behalf of Education, 
they would make equal sacrifices ? No — But they are called upon 
to make none at all. Their scruples are consulted ; their pecu- 
liar interests are preserved ; the schools which they are requir- 
ed to support are, in the strictest and largest sense of the word, 
schools for all. It would be in the highest degree unjust, then, 
to suspect diem of joining the clamour whicli some are trying 
to raise ; above all, of endeavouring lo cry down the whole 
Plan, without attempting to amend the parts which they dislike, 
and of using arguments which go to stop every effort in favour 
of National Education, because some of the measures proposed 
appear to them objectionable. Let us liope that such attempts 
iviu fail as they deserve; and that the painful sight will not, up- 
m this gi'eat occasion, be displayed, of the best friends to the 
haziness and improvement of mankind taking the very course 

254 The New Plan Education for England. Av^. 

most agreeable to the victims of bigotry, and tlie patrons of 
servile principles. * 

♦ As a justification of our distrust in the candour of some active 
men in London anion^i the Dissenters, we may mtntion^the appear- 
ance of resolutions concerning Mr Brougham’s plan, because it im- 
posed a Sacramental Test, a week after the provision had been open* 
Jy given up. 

We have-avoided loading this article with a comparative statement 
of the Scotch System of Parish Schools, and the System proposed 
for England, because we trust that we shall soon have an opportunity 
of discussing the improvements that are universally admitted to be 
wanting in the former ; and notice has been given in Parliament that 
these will be made the subject of a separate measure. Wo may here 
observe, however, upon the subject of the prejudices said to be en- 
tertained by our IVesbyterian brethren of the South, against the in- 
terference of tilt' Parson with the appointment, and of the Bishop 
with the superintendence of Masters, that this principle, muiatis mu* 
iandisy is amply recognised in our Scotch scheme. The minister, 
with the heritors, elects ; the V*’csbytery approves and visits — ^reniovt 
ing without appeal, .if it thinks fit. Undoubtedly the Presbytery, 
acting as a court, may be, in rhe eyes of Presbyterians at least, bet- 
ter fit to discharge the visitatorial office. But an Episcopalian esta- 
blishment must, of necessity, entrust the bishop with that function.^ 
And let us only ask the objectors, whether tliey would he satisfied 
with vesting the power of approbation and visit!ition in a body of the , 
neighbouring clergy — which is the case in our Presbyttrinn scheme?/ 
Surely they would, on behalf of the Dissenters, not prefer this to one 
minister and a bi^ho]). The Seceders, Baptists, and Catholics in , 
Scotland, have never yet objected to our plan of sdiool lii.'scipime f"* 
and 3 »et there are 'whole districts in the North peopled with Catho- 
lics, and some of the most populous of the districts in the West , 
filled with Baptists and other sectaries. 

We shall add two facts here respecting the use of the EducaUon 
Inquiry generally. In one county in Scotland, four advertisenieats 
to contract for building parish schools, appeared immediately after 
the Education circular reached the neighbourhood, and sliowcd tl^ ' 
the eyes of that waiichful Committee were turned towards it. Tn^^ 

, law had thus been evaded for above a century. i." 

Jiv. In the last Report of the Comniissioners unfler Mr 
^Wts, the St Bees’ school coal is stated to have been taken coni^tan^tljjr 
dtiring the last 20 years, by the Lonsdale family, under their 
brated lease for 867 years, at 31. rent; and thOy are stated 
Commissioners to have, in that time, raised froiti tiience 
677,600 cubick yai^ds or tons of tlieboal! ^S(ee"tlie attad^qn w 
Education Committee KoW. ^ * u 


t- «35 ] 


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2^51 Cb*arterl^ pist qf Nax Pullicatiom. Aug. 

.*■* . T‘ \ 

R, Porsoni Notae in AHstophanem, quibus Plutum Coincsdiaix!» 
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spot. By Jn B. Fmaeri fipq. To 8ubscrxb6r% ^IL ;-^non-8ubacrib 
er*p 26/. 5s« 

No. LXFIIl urn 

Of pu 

pMhhei in 

V I -I ■-.■ -t - . ■ ^ . ■_ 

IX Wtthon, i^rinter, EUtitbiirgliu 


Art. I. The Comedies of Aristophanes. By T. Mitchell, 

A. M. late Fellow of Sidncy-Sussex College, Cam- 
bridge. Vol. 1. - - - - p. 2T1 

II. 1. Whitelaws History of the City of Dublin. 

2. Observations on the State of Ireland, principally 
directed to its Agriculture and Rural Population; 
in a Series of Letters, written on a Tour tlirough 
that Country. In 2 Vols. By J. C. Curwen, Esq- 
M. P. 

3. Gamble’s View's of Society in Ireland • 320 

in. An Account of Experiments for Determining the Va- 
riation in the Length of the Pendulum vibrating 
Seconds at the principal Stations of the Trigonome- 
trical Survey of Great Britain. By Captain H. 
Kater, F. R. S. - - • - 338 

IV. Poems. By Bernard Barton - - 34-8 

V. The Transactions of the Horticultural Society of Lon- 
don, Vols. 1. II. & III. - - - 357 

'VI. Mademoiselle de Tournon, par T Auteur d’AdClc de 

Senange ----- 372 

VII. Recherches sur les Bibliothcques Anciennes ct Mo- 
dernes jusqu’a la Fondatiou de la Bibliotbeque MiU 
i zarinc, et sur Ics Causes qui ont favoris6 T Accroissc- 

ment successif du Nombre des Livres. Par L. C- 
F. Petit Radel, Membre de ITustitut de France, 

Ac. Ac. - - - - - .883 

VIII. Journals of two Expeditions into the Interior of New 
South Wales, undertaken by Order of the British 
Government in the Years 1817-18. By John Ox- 
ley, Surveyor-General of the Territory - 422 


Art. IX. The Bakerian Lecture. On the Composition and 
Analysis of the Inflammable Gaseous Compounds 
resulting from the Destructive Distillation of Coal 
and Oil ; with some Remarks on their relative Pleat- 
ing and Illuminating Powers. By W. T. Brande, 
Esq., Sec. R. S. Prof- Chem. R. 1. - p. 431 

X. Lectures on the Dramatic Literature of the Age of 
Elizabeth. Delivered at the Surrey Institution. By 
William llazlitt - - - . 433 

XI. Marcian Colonna, an Italian Tale, with Three Dra- 
matic Scenes, and other Poems. By Barry Corn- 
wall - - - - - 449 

XII. Speech of Lord John Russell in the House of Com- 
mons, on tlie 14th December 1819, for transferring 
the Elective Frandiise from Corrupt Boroughs to 
Unrepresented Great Towns - - •461 

Quarterly List of New Publications - • 502 

Index - • - - •514 



’ NOVEMBER, 1820 . 


Art. I. The Comedies of Aristophanes. By T. Mi re heel, 
A. M. late Fellow of Sidney-8ussex College, Cauibridgc. 

1. London. John Murray, Albemarlc-strcet, 
p}). -154-. 

“VToTwiTiiSTANniNa the great success of the Greek writers 
in tragic composition, there were circumstances affecting 
the state of ancient Greece, very adverse to their efforts in that 
department of poetry. There was a clumsy, cumbrous, intri- 
cate Mythology, — within the mazes of which, when once involv- 
ed, the poet could do little but fatigue himselti and weary liis 
audience. There was a Religion, addressed so much to the 
senses, aiul so little to the heart or understanding, that at best 
it was but a gorgeous plaything to amuse, or a bugbear to ter- 
rify full-grown mirscries, and denied him all powcrlul topics of 
consolation or of terror. There was a restriction upon I cmale 
intercourse, — a confinement of the high-born dames of antiquity 
to little better than menial offkrcs, — tnat obstructed or obacurell 
all the more delicate workings of the female breast, and thus 
deprived him of one great charm of the modern drama. Wo- 
men, it is true, arc sometimes made the leading characters in 
Grecian tragedies ; but they want die discriminating stamp of 
womanhoocf ; and, for the most part, their feelings and expres- 
sions might with ecjual propriety be ascribed to pci sons of the 
other sex, — or, at any rate, thrown into a joint and common 
stock for almost indifferent use amongst themselves. There is 
hardly a shade of variation to break tlie sameness of this uni- 
formity, or to distinguish the heroines from each other. The 
sacrificed daughter of one pliiy, is the devoted w ife of a second, 
t^«and the pious sister of a third. Difference of circumstances 
^ makes little difference of language or of feeling. Pol;,xen© 

’ XXXIV. KO. 68. S 

^72 ^ ■ Uor. 

mijrJit 'i't for the picture of Iphifrenia, or Alccstis stand sa,$. the 
reflection of Anti|[^one. Love,*' so fruitful a source of interest 
with modern writers, is left uncultivated by the tincieiit dra- 
matists. Thc}’^ have no Juliets, no Belvideras, Ophelias. * 
'^I'lsey till n sterner soil, and are more successful in the de- 
lineation of jealousy or revenge. Medea is indeed* the picture 
of a consuniinate artist — true to nature, and css^'otially female. 
She is in revenge wliat Lady Macbeth is in ambition, — as bold, 
as resolute, as bloody, — ^\’ct wiili one touch of tenderness to re- 
deem her from abhorrence. The last smile of her children — 
the TTttvv^-atTcv yiXatcfAic — is to her what the resemblance in the 
sh eping Dnncnii to lier father is to the other. Hut witli this cx- 
ce}>tion, tlie remark holds good. The poet could not perceive 
the defect, and of consc'qneiice could not remedy it. To sup- 
ply the want of a po'ctical theology, he had two resources, of 
which unsparing use is made: — he could resort to the Furies 
ortho Fites. The lirst, in the hands of f j^Kschyhis were e- 
Jiongh to fj ighlen women into miscarriages, and children into 
and even modern breasts may thrill nt tiie invocations of 
J Giiilipus, or the agonies of Ij Orestes. The m\slerions power 
of Destiny is made yt*t more potent and apnalling. Leading 
its unconscious, helpless victim, through tlie dreary vicissitudes 
of madness, crime, and misery, to a catastrophe of undeserved 
but iiPMVOidahle horror, it makes the gradual (hveiopment of 
the CLdipus Tyriinmi.s the most heart-rending series of action 
that imagination can conceive. We drink the cup of agony by 
drops, and liiid it vegiilariy increa'^e in bitienicss to the close. 
This masterpiece of Grecian tragedy stands single. It is as if 
the Muse had concentrated her whole strength to make one im- 

* Sophocles and /ICschylus have pourtrayed, one the jealous an- 
xieties of a Dejanira, and the other the jealous revenge of a ♦ lytem- 
nestra; b\it they have nothing like love in any of tlieir ])lays. Eu- 
ripides introduced something like it, but it was in his hands a 
viog eptifs, (Aristot. llhetor. II. c. 6 ) — the passion, not the sentiment ; 
not, in short, the kind of love which we evidently mean to signify 
in the text. See the Frogs of Aristopliancs, v. 1 and the Clouds, 

V. l.*^72. 

t Aristophanes does not forget this circumstance. See tlie Phtiusy 
V. 4-2f^, and the Scholiast upon it. 

if QCdipiis Colaneus, v. 84. 

I] There is nothing in poetry more truly overwhelming than the 
picture of the sufll rings of Ore.sres under the persecution of these 
tremendous beings, as it is given in the Iphigenia in Tauris of Euri-*.' 
pides. 7 


Mitcheir^ AnstopJfancs. 2T3 

mortal effort. But in |[yencral lier productions fiill very sfiort 
of perfection, 'riierc are the marks of what might have been 
clone. It is the outline, not filled up — llic elements, but not 
in combination — the low, imperfect murmurs ol Dodona, bcfoixj 
Jicr oaks were masters of their inspired articulation. 

The Comic poet, on the contrary, had not to combat with 
any such obstacles as we have describ<*d ; or rather, the very 
circumstances most inimical to the ^I'ragic writer, were propi- 
tious to him. If he could not catcli the liner lineaments of fe- 
male character, which the nature of society in ancient times 
prevented from being fully developed — iJi like Tilbnrina. in tlie 
Critic, he could not see "i hat uas not yet in — still there 
were certain gross. diMcrimiiuiting fcatnris, too nuirkcd and 
striking in the females of every age to he mistaken, thnt he 
could easily delineate for the ainu^ciiienl ol‘ iiis audience. The 
heterogeneous attributes, pciplexod relalioiiship'-, and still more 
ambiguous characters of the Heatlien deitie^, that clogged 
and tlulled the spirit of the tragic chornsscs, supplied him with 
an exhausticss source of ridicule and inerriment. A cowardly 
Bacchus, disguised, beaten, and derided ; f a greedy, gorman- 
dizing Hercules, balllcd in his projected gluttony; | or a diplo- 
matic Neptune, and a gibbering Tribaliiis; || — were treats too 
exquisite to be withhold. I1ie same profaneness, which in a 
grave tragedian or philosopher — an § ifOschylus or a Socrates — 
was visited wdth forfeiture or death, the fine or the hemlock, — 
from Aristophanes or Eupolis, w’as welcomed with tliuuders of 
applause. Even from the Eleusinian mysteries of Ceres, — the 
most solemn rites of the Grecian religion, the violation of which 
is esteemed by Horace as sufllcient to excommunicate from all 
civil relations, — even from these the audacious hand of the Comic 
poet tore the veil, and gave more than a glimpse to the iiniiii- 
tiated. The gods, the priests, the ceremonies, — the whole pa- 
raphernalia of Paganism, — were for him but a mag:iziiie on 
which to draw" for blasphemous jesU and impious bullboucrics. 

* Witness the Lysistratc, the Ecclesia/.usfc, the Thesmophoriazusa!. 
•f See the humours of Bacchus and Xanthias in the Frogs, 
j See again the Frogs, and the last act of the birds. 

II See tlie last act of the Aves, a play in wliich, throughout, the 
most cutting sarcasms upon the Adienians are blended with the most 
daring mockery of the Gods. 

§ ./^schyliis was condcniued to death for some expressions ot irn- 
. pious tendency in one of his plays. His brother Aniyuias saved him, 
. by uncovering an arm, of which the hand had been cut oil at iJalamis. 
V Of Socrates we shall presently have to speak. 



MitclielPs Arhtojihancs. 

Nor is it merely by ambushed attacks — side blows or sly inii- 
enclos — that this incessant warfare is maintained. The batte- 
ries are opened in due term, and with appropriate solemnity J 
and complete scenes, and acts, — nay almost entire i)la 3 's, are le- 
velled against the sacred mstitiilions, of which these very repre- 
sentations formed a part. Aristophanes is a great njaster of 
this weapon. He can, indeed, where it suits his purposes, as 
in the latter j.cenes of the Clouds, where the atheism of the So- 
phists is to be brought into contcni]>t and detestation, assume a 
far different tone, ujid vindicate, in glowing terms, tlie honours 
of Olympus. But, generally speaking, the powej s of his keen 
satire, brilliant wit, and l)iiniorous imagination, arc never so 
anxiously or so successfully exerted ns when he has to expose 
the crafts of tlic priesthood, f ridicule the authority of the ora- 
cles, % or lash the vic es of the celestial 'personages. |1 This, 
perhaps, as much as his elegance of slyie or purity of phrase, 
might recommend his works to the pillow of St Chrysostom ; 
but we cannot but be struck wdth surprise at the inconsistency 
of a people, who could tolerate so unbounded a licentiousness 
in one class of writers, while they punished so severely the least 
freedom of the same sort in another. 

Wc would not be supposed to assert, that the circumstances 
we have described were the sole or the cliicf causes which tended 
to favour the Comic writers, and to raise the Grecian Comedy, 
as we think it was raised, to a much liighcu’ pitch of perfection 
than Grecian Tragedy ever attained. The iiuirked peculiari- 
ties of female character, and the wild absurdities w hich the most 
ortliodox Pagan must liavc perceived in the heatlieu tlieolo^, 
were indeed, as we have remarked, of great w eight to incline 
the balance to the side of the ConK'diau. Br.t Greece, under 
€*very aspect in wdiich it can be viewed, was the very land for 
Comedy, — a soil, selected and prepared, on wliicli it might 
fasten mid luxuriate. With Greece for the country, — Athens 
for the city,— and Athenians for the audience, we cannot ima- 
gine a more happy combination for tlie Comic bm d. We must 
consider the country, — portioned out into a number of petty 
communities, all diftcriiig more or less in their habits, interests, 
dialects, § and customs, each state conceiving itself the first in 
the worhl, and looking down upon its neigliboiirs with unutter- 
able loatliing and disdain. We must add to this a city,, split 
into iniuiinerable factions, — with its war party and its peace 

•j- Plutus. J PIutQs, Etjuites, &c. || Aves, &c. 

§ The harsh pronunciation and strange idioms of a Megarensian 
er Btcutiaii; — the coarse fare or the panteiles «f the Spartan,^a»/^ 





party,— »it« aristocratic and its popular, — its students of philo- 
sophy and its lovers of fun, — containing within the circuit of iu 
walls characters the most eccentric, and modes of life the most 
extraordinary, — and oflering, as the greatest naval power in 
Gj-eece, a mart for the regular importation of all the follies, 
fashions, and vices that foreign countries could supply. * W« 
must recollect the constitution of the audience: — the (jiiick sus- 
ceptibility of ridicule, the lively sensibility to humour, the eager 
appetite for novelty, that distinguished the Athenians, — and 
which, as they were a hearing and a seeing^ not a irading public 
(according 1o the just observation of Mr Mitchell), were best 
and most easily gratihod by the poet from the stage at the seve- 
ral festivals when the con'?dies were acted before ihem. Nor 
can we at all agree with Mr M. in considering this audience as 
usually made up of a mere ‘ rabble, ’ ripe for notliiiig but * the 
nonsense of holiday revelry^, * and totally unfit to appreciate 
merit of an higher order. Indeed, Mr M. j)lainly coiitradicU 
himself on this head, — in one place characterizing the composi- 
tion of the Clouds, as the ‘ legitimede ridicule of a Dionysian 
Festival, ' f — wliilc in anotlier he asks, what possible connexion 
could exist between it and ‘ the Dionysian Festival, where 
every one came to be amused ; where he who laughed loudest 
was the merriest ; and be that laughed longest was the wisest ? * J 

well as the barbarous language of a Persian envoy or Triballian deity, 
—were reckoned as good subjects of ridicule, and excited full as 
hearty laughter in an Athenian theatre, as tlie odd figure and broken 
Englisli of a Ca^don or a Foigard may do upon our own stage. See 
the Acharnians, Wasps, &c. r 

* Thucyd. Lib. II. c, 38. j Prelim. Disc. p. cl. 

J Ibid. p. cxY. We cannot see w hy the authority of A^^lian should 
be alternately allowed and rejected as suits the purpose of the wTiter, 
(Prelim. Discourse, pp. cxvii. cxiii.) ; or why it should be laid down 
60 decidedly, that the failure of the Clouds was owing to its matter 
being too grave for the taste of the audience. The Parabausis of the 
seemd Clouds (preserved in the first as it now stands), and t^e con- 
clusion of that in the Wasps, tlie play of the succeeding year, are 
chiedy urged in support of this opinion. But thougli wc should not 
insist that the 09^riKtt (Nuhes, v. 52-^.), on w'lioin Aristophanes 
charges tlie crime of his discomfiture, might possiUi^ he the or 

subsequent judges f -^(tlic Monkir and Nekir of Athenian theatricals, 

f This interpretation is the one given by Beck — “ vtf q>o^r* 
** judicibus imperitis pronunciantibus. Sic Latini sub judice : oinnino- 
** que sub sic dicitur, ut in genere causam alicujus rei indicet. 
Beckii Comment, in Nubes. The Scholiast gives the same nicauiqg 
,to the words. 

27 ^' 

The clinracter of the Old Comedy (to which our ob^rvditiouft 
are confined), as it is drawn by the invidious hand of Plutarch, 
might perhaps warrant the conclusion, lhat none but the 

who passed final sentence on a piece after it had lived its one day 
upon the stage, and assigned the prize of competition according to 
their pleasure), — still there is no ground for supposing that the majo- 
rity oK the spectators were of that stamp, since the poet seems to spe- 
cify them as an exception from the ^6»}ect, — o-o^ot ei»rut^~-^cro^ef\eer6t 
fisoLlatiy — the usual terms in wliicli he addresses or describes the body of 
his hearers. There is a singular degree of confusion in Mr Mitchell’s 
reasoning on this point. He admits that the ‘ gentlemen * of Athens, 
—the Koi/^oiKsiyahi , — probably attended at the representation of the 
Clouds, and assisted in its demolition ; and yet he would ascribe that 
demolition to the Atlicuian rabble's being ^ cheated of their Baccha- 
‘ nalian festivity, ’ and ‘ passed off with a lecture, which, though 

* conveyed through the medium of two fighting-cocks, had yet some- 
‘ thing in it too serious to be sufficiently piquant ' for their palate. 
(Prelim. Discourse, p. cxv.) He goes on, — ‘ What was it to them 

* how the education of the higher classes was conducted ; * — (quite 
forjietting the admitted presence of the 9co(.Xotx.ecyochi ) ; — ' or what did 

* they care for the opinions of Protagoras or Polus, of Prodicus or 
‘ (iorgias? 77/e penons and the sentiments of these Jashiomrhfc so- 

* pin t.' xv:nild he egualhf unkuowuy it is wost probable, to the greater 
‘ p'trt of \ uch an a u dience as g enerallp ft lad the comic thcah e^ at 'i fhens* * 
(Ih'd. p. cxvi.) ; and yet in another place he talks of sucli * personal 
‘ knowledge * of a philosopher, as must have ‘ necassurilii^ happened 
‘ in a town not of very considerable population, and whose customs 
‘ and manners brought nJI persons more into contact, than tlie habits 
‘ of modem society dq. ’ (Ibid. p. cxxwii.) — Leaving these incon- 
sistt nc’cs to shift for ihem.^jclves, we wiV not lengthen this Note fur- 
P er than to observe, tiiat though wo should not credit TEiian’s ac- 
count, that the audience received the Cloud^ w'ith rapture, crying 
oiU that the victory belonged to Aristophanes, and ordering llie 
judges to inscribe his name accordingly, (Var. Hist, b. ii. cap. \ ‘X ) — 
yet it is to no want of wit, or even of farcical Iiiiriiour, in which it 
abounds almost as much as any ol that author s compositions, that 
w<^ are to fiscribe its damnation, (Angiice.) The fact seems to be, 
that the party of the Sophists, who were of course adverse to tho 
play, was at that time extremely strong ; and that Alcihiades (whose 
early iutintacy with Socrates, Xenophon is very far from denizing, as 
Mr'M. would make him do), exerted his intriguing abilities to the against an attack aimed at a philosopher whose political sen- 
tiinenu and prejudices so entirely coincided with his own. Whether 
tho spectators, or the K^trxt (as we rather incline to suppose), were 
the tools thiis crafty politician would use, w'e can easily imagine his 
machinations quite powerful enough to inflame the one or to corrupt * 
the other. 


•—the lowest and meanest of the people, — would endure to wit- 
ness its exhibitions. The abuse wliicli this most pleasing of 
bioirmpliers, but most blind and bigotU‘d of moralists, and most 
unfair of crilics, pours with such pitiless profusion, in his Sym- 
* upon the Ancient Cottedy, must however he consi- 
dered as little belter than a trick of composition. It is the foil 
and contrast to the iiigh-flown praises c>f his adored Menan- 
der, — timt Menander whom he cstecans as indispensable wine 
itse'lf to the enjctyincncs of a drinking-bout ; whose diction he 
declares as sweet anti unambitious as liis sentiments are pieci- 
ous and profound ; whoso erotic lucubrations (a commendation, 
w^e should have ratlier expected from 'Jhiiioxeria than l^iutarch) 
lie extols a.> so peculiarly '.easonahlc for revellers who are sIku’I- 
ly to retire from the baiupiet to their syioiises; ]• and who-^^e pa- 
negyric he sinns up in the enthusiastic sentence — that as the 
painter, wlien his eyes arc wearied out, turns for rcci cation to 
ihnid lines and verdant eoluurs, so must the |)lnlos(.)pher la- 
borious student fiiul rolre.shniont for liis uriremiltetl and intense 
exi^rtioTis in tiie pages of a bard who ‘ laps the soul in an ely- 
siiini ' of his own, — a ineadovv rich in shade, prodigal of flowers, 
and haunted by the bn'cze. f In fact he proves too much fir 
Ids own hypothesis. In sjiitc of his declanuilion, and against 
his wish, he forces us to a conclusion that the (did Comeiiy, 
differing little from the New, § t'xccot in coarser pers malilies 
and more grotesijue buihioncry, could not be aJtogether with- 
out attractions for the philosophic mind, that explores the 
principles of human nature, or the cultivated taste, that de- 
lights in the Iriumjdis of genius. — The lialicarnassensian Dio- 
nysius, w hose sound sense and exquisite acumen rank him Isigli 
among the critics of antiquity, displays ai once more jmlgment 
and more candour, where he talks oi’ those beauties of style 
which characterized the Comedians in geimral. ‘ They are,* * * § 

* Plutarch. S^aupos, L. vii. 


fAtlX XTTliiTi VXQX TX^ iXvlctfV yVVX'KX,, Ibid. 

if xxi orxv ot y^xpu^ rxg 

rx av&r.^x xxt irooj^n ^^atuxrx TfitTruT-iv, xvxxxu^.x r^tv xk^x- 
^6tv ( lleiske) xxi irvvlovuv e»£<vA>», Mtveev^^o; otov ey«v3'g< xxt 

rKiit’X y.xi TVivfAxlcJ* tjjv Plutarch. Arist. Ct Mc- 

nan. ('omp. 

§ We mean, of course, in the points in which they can be compar- 
ed. A much greater variety of incidents was admitted into the plot 
^ of the New Comedy, — but we speak merely of die style and the ex»» 
position of character. 

he says, ^ in their thoughts both clear and pmpieuoii%~* 

* terse and yei magnificent, — ^powerful and ethical. ^ * Quali- 
ties these, somewhat above the coarse apprehension of a mere 
mob, and fit to gain applause more precious than the unintel- 
lectiial roar of plebeian acclamation. 

We must be allowed a few words further on this subject, as 
<mr veneration for the Old Comedy, as far as its remains are 
embalmed in the writings of Aristophanes, will not suffer us to 
let it be imagined, that tlie Comic poet was no better than, a 
holiday jester, or his audience on a level with the modern dei- 
ties of the one-shilling gallery. We would ask Mr Mitchell, 
who seems to regard Aristophanes with the half-parental fond- 
ness of a translator, — ^whether he will be really content to 
let his author rank with the puppet-showman of a Venetian 
Carnival, looking for his guerdon to the obstreperous laugh- 
ter of a rabble, and elevated but one degree above the wire- 
moved figures on his stage? Would the numerous and po- 
tent body of Athenian sophists have been so anxious to crush 
an opponent, whose blows indeed were heavy, but who could 
hope for no better witnesses and applauders of his gymnas- 
tic energies than a set of Bacchanalian rioters, sworn foes to 
everything but nonsense and buffoonery ? W\)uld they have 
been so solicitous to close the theatres and banish the coinedii- 
ans, had they not known that the rich and the noble, the gift- 
ed as well as the gay, to w^hom they looked for })upils and ad- 
mirers, would be found upon the benclics, and crowded round 
the very statue ot Bacchus ?f When Socrates himself was 
there, where were his disciples ? Have we not the testimony 
of Aristophanes, as well as the voice of his contemporaries, to 
prove that he of all the Comic writei's wsia incredibly honoured 

T&iy KOtfAOifiuv Tdc; Mf^iKXg u^deeg aTrottrxg* Lrt 

vdAfAXert KecB'X^^t, KXt xxi ftfC* fAgyx}\07r^lvug^ xx* ^ ^uyotf 

Kxi Dion. Hal. de Vett. Script. Censura. We need scarcely 

atld to this the testimony of another great Critic, Qiiinctilian, — ‘ An- 
^ tiqua comcedia cum sinceram illam- sermoiiis Attici gratiarn prope 
‘ sola rednet, turn facundissimte libertatis, etsi in iiisectandis vitiis 

• praecipua, plurimum tanien viriuin ctiam in ceteris partibus habet. 

‘ Nam ct graadis, ot elegans, et veiiusta, et nescio an ulla, post Ho- 
‘ mcrum tamcn, quern, ut Achilleni, semper excipi par est, aut si- 
‘ milior sit oratoribus, aut ad oratores faciendos aptior. ’ — Quinctil. 
Institut. p. 897. Buiman. Vide etiam Cic. dc Offic. Lib. 1. c. xxix. 
ed. Fac. 

f The best place in the Athenian comic theatre. 

j Dionysius, who wrote an express treatise ?rs^< *nj$ iuvdnrcg 

well understood the value of this epithet. ^ v. 

^ ' 

Arhtopiams. ^^9 

Itnd run after,— 5* *«e* #5 cwSe*; yra-x'ff h t/fittv ■J'— 

and was it not this very Aristophanes who sconrircd from the 
stage with an unrelenting hand the low provocatives of vulgar 
approbation ? J who loj)petl off so many ofl^-^^hoots of luxuri- 
ant absurdity ? who^ reformed the indecent Cordax, § and 
tempered the obscenities in which his predecessors had indulg- 
ed ? who* breathed into the shape of Comedy, — ilic body he 
had chosen, — a new soul of sense, and feci in, tr, and morality, — 
poetic rapture, and declamatory grandour ? Was not his very 
first production (the Dmtaleis) received, to use Mr M.’s own 
words, with the ‘ most flattering attention And wa» not ‘ a 
‘ comparison between the temperate virtues oi‘ the good old 
‘ times, and the unrestrained and uueywarnpled dissoluteness of 
^ his own age, ’ — the verj^ portion oi‘ the Clouds w^hicli Mr M. 
unfortunately selects as having caused, by its unseasonable gra- 
vity, the rejection of that l>lay, — the wliolc jet and object that 
this performance had in view ? Were tlie two lighting-cocks 
of the Nubes less welcome to a laughter- loving rabble than the 
ordinary characters of Sopliron and Catapygon ? or had ifie 
whole enlightened population of Athens been scared aw^ay by 
the sober horrors of the Divtaleis, abandoning sense and poetry 
to the mercy of the mob ? 

We have said enough to vindicate the audience of the Athe- 
nian theatre from the as])ersions of Mr Mitchell ; and to show 
tliat its applause, instead ol’ being a more ^ ebullition ’ of ^ noisy 
jollity, ’ unworthy the ambition of a liberal mind, might well 
rank with the prize,— the procession, — the banquet, — and all 
the other honours that stimulated the exertions, or rewarded 
the successes of the comic writer. Nor was it only an assembly, 
whose anticipated presence would enhance the vigour of his ef- 
forts,— but one on whom lie miglit be sure, beforeliaiid, that no 
effort would be wasted. Keen to observe, and quick to appre- 
hend, — no Stroke of humour, no slyrjoss of allusion, no fine etlie- 
rial touch of subtlety, could be lost upon it. It w’as an atnio- 
8 phere iniprcgnatctl with the electricity of wit, that needed 
blit a spark from the poet to inflame it. In every mixture, 
how^ever, there must be dregs, — and undoubtedly together with 
the better judges of poetical merit, there was blended a propor- 
tion of the lower orders, who, like our own imperious vulgar, 
were to be amused with pantomimic tricks and boorish jocula- 
rity. The smiles of the polite few were not enougli for the co- 
median, — he must join to them Uie shouts of the million ; and 
the variety of functions he had to discharge — ^the diversified at-^ 

f Vespae. v. 1059. 

X Nubes. V. 538. 

f Ibid. V. 540i 

tractions of the ancient comedy — gave liim charms 
For :dl tastes he had to cater; and all — provided be spa^ hot 
for high seasoning, but made the most of his materiel — he was 
sure to please. As Public Satirist, an ollice with which he 
found hini^lf virtually invested, he had to exercise a Censorship 
far more form iti able than that of the Archon : there was no 
shift to elude /ns nor could any bribe persuade him to 

arrest the lash, when once his arm was raised for flagellation. * 
As State Journalist, — for no daily reams then issued from the 
press to pour a deluge of intelligence, and pall the appetite of 
curiosity itself, — he liad to chronicle the events of the passing 
year, to comment on die conduct of the ruling powers, to ani- 
mate the patriotism, instruct the zeal, or direct the aversions of 
his countrymen. As Periodical Critic, he had to watcli with a 
jealous eye the productions of contemporary writers, — as Prize- 
Competitor, he had so to regulate, or so to humour the public 
taste, a*^ to secure indulgence lor his own. 

In the last-mentioned capacity, Aristophanes boldly chose the 
iiolilcr part; and made the caprices of even Athenians bend be- 
fore his jusier notions of the and — what should be at 

once beneficial and agreeable,— in the line of composition he had 
pitcheil upon. ‘ "llio straui they heard was of an higher mood’ 
than tliey had been wont to listen to ; but it came upon them 
rccoininended by such a richness of melody, and such a force of 
inspiration, that they could not turn a deaf ear to its cnchant- 
nienls. The chord be struck was iicvir, but every bosom vibrat- 
ctl in answer to its tones. Not that in his hands Comedy for- 
got her broadest grins, though she acquired graces of a more ma- 
jestic cast. Never was ciilmiiny so ungroiindeil as that mon- 
strous position maintfiined by Plutarcli, — ‘ tliat Aristophanefi 
‘ €,*an neither please the miiltitiide, nor be endured by the re- 
‘ lined, — hut that his resembling a decayed courtesan 

‘ tliat imitates the dignity o* a matron, is at once iiisgii sting to 

• the niniiy from her insolent assumptions, and abominated by 

* the graver few for her lew’dnr>s and malignity.’ f The literal 
reverse of this judgment might be Muted as the true one. Coin- 
P'.aimling and concocting the utde and dulce ^ — with many a 
laughable jest, and many a serious appeal ; § for the lively rab- 

* See the Wasps, v. 1062, ^c. 

-f A^tr«>?3fcv»s; av fcfifi T«*? ;roAA 0 i( ire TWj ip^ovt/^ctf tfAA 

ei-ateotc ‘TctiiTtfiJi yree^i:)c/u>aeKvtx§f eflx jXi/Xfiixtffif yufAiTvif, He 0* t^aA- 
As# TJjj» .St" r#y, ( Rciske.) w re n/uvot ^^iXvrroerxi to ewcoAoW'O*' 

Kxt x'efco-^fV. — Plutarch. Aristopli. et Meiiandri Cotnp. 

^ 1 joA>.« j«sv y'tXoiX et- 

woXXx h lianas, v. 389 . 


ble prac^^ good-humoured merriment, intermi- 

^ kiiable slang, — * the puns of the Peiraeus, ’ ‘ the proverbs of the 
VAgora, ’ the ribaldry of the popular assembly, and the profes- 
sional pleasaiitnes of the courts of justice; — while for souls of 
* brighter mould he unveils the awful face of genuine Poesy, 
and bids the mighty mother smile upon her votaries. * The 
patriot learned from him to glow at the recollections of Mara- 
thon; f the poetical aspirant to invoke the shade of Homer; J; 
the youth to shudder at the hideousness of vice; § and the aged 
to repose in the security of virtue. § The ugh diirulenco (for 
modesty was no stranger to the breast of Aristoplvanes) intlutod 
hyn to have his first play acted under the shelter of another’s 
name, If the sentiments, wt ina}' safely coi\jectii^o, as well as the 
tendency of tijat composition, were conceived in a spirit all hi« 
own. We know that the subject was serious, ami it would 
neither be weakened nor degnuh-d by his treatment of it. I'lie- 
applause which crowned this cflbrt taught him, thal, even among 
such an audience as Dcmocriitic Athens aflbrd^'d, — however fu- 
ture Mitchells or Mitfords were to (dachen at the notion, — there 
were hearts that beat in perl'eet unison with liis owai, and 
^nemy that, while they had chosen the wrong path, could yet 
dik'ern the right, and hud neither lost tlie sense to iindcrstam4 
nor the feeling to admire him. 

We feel as if treading upon holy ground, in venturing to 
treat of a subject that has so lately been discussed and adorn- 
ed by the labours of the Messrs ^blcgcls. We promise that 
our steps shall be as light and rapid as we can make them, — 
but mixed with the gratitude w'c entertain towards those distin- 
guished critics, for rescuing Aristophanes from the obloquies, of 
ignorant contempt, and asserting with so much spirit his proper 
place among die [loets cf ariticjuity% — there is a w'ish, for which 
our readers must hold us excused, to add our own homage, 
however insignificant, to theirs. In every light in which we 
can view the works of this extraordinary genius, there is an 
union of differt jit (qualities perceptible, — singular and striking 
when coutpinpluied separately, but utterly amazing when con- 
sidered in tlie aggregate. ‘ As a patriot, ' .says Mons. Schlf’gel, 
* his principal merit consists in the fidelity with w'liich he painte 

♦ His own words are — 

'S.fAtKgQf ^ TOK x^trxt<rt /iaXofieti’ 

Toig a‘9^ei<ri fttv ruv K^mtv Iftl* 

Tflif yiXao’t ^ dtec ro yehejp x^iPStr Bcclesiaz. V. 1 1 51. 

f Vespae. V. 1109. J llansB. v. 106h Passim* 

^ Vespae. v. 1054. ^ 

* all the corruptions of the state, and in the chastifteidt»aM; wUch 
< he inflicts on the pestilent demagogues who caused 

‘ ruption, or profited by its effects. ’ But to the tone of proud ; 
defiance and indignant eloquence in which, at all *personal ha- 
zards to himself, he so discharged this? patriotic duty, as to de- 
serve the cj'own of sacred Olivo from the hands of his country- 
men, — there is to be added that spirit of impaitial scrutiny, pre- 
served amid the rage of declamation, and that minuteness of 
historical detail, that caused even his adversary Plato to send 
his comedies to Dionysius in Sicily, as the roost faithful record 
of Grecian affairs and politics for the period during which he 
wrote. In satire, thoiigli, when justice demands it, he can b€is 
severe, caustic,, terrible, — ^yet the vein of brisk and sprightly 
raillery, — of lively and not illnatured quizzing^ if we may use such 
an expression, in which he so often indulges, seems more con- 
genial to liis temper and dispositions. If he might have sai^ 
with Junius, in his iiaughtier moments, — ‘ What public qiies- 

tion have I declined? Wliat villain have I spared?* — we 
suspect that in general he would have been more pleased to 
claim that ‘ facHims and civil nvay of jesting^ * that Heinsius 
commends in Horace, and Scaliger means to describe whijre 
lie talks of a poet’s grinning merely to slum his white teeui, 
without a thought of Ussing tliein. There is sometimes, to be 
sure, a little butchering,— as when he falls foul of a Cleon or 
a Cleisthcnes ; but, for the most part, we have to admire that 
decisive criterion of a superior genius, the insinuated sarcasm, 
the delicate invective, — in Dryden’s language ‘ the fineness of 
^ the stroke that separates the head from the body, and leavea 

* it standing in its place. * * Any man, ’ said the wife of a very 

useful though ignoble member of the commonwealth, — ‘ any 

* man is capable of a plain piece of work — a bare hanging ; but 

* to make a malefactor die sweetly ^ — ’tis only my Mr Ketch can 

* do that ! ’ Aristophanes has all this merit. He certainly 
executes with grace ; and the very victim must have found it 
difficult to refrain from joining in the laughter raised at his ex- 

But the prominent feature — the differential quality that dia^ 
tinguisbes his satire from that of other poets, is neither ita 
occasional vigour, nor its general facetiousness. Among the ' 
Latins, w^e have Juvenal his equal in the first respect, and Ho- 
race in the last. It is that unfailing fluency and copiousness— 
that sort of active magnetism, by vmich one conception rising 
in his mind draws after it in full exuberance an endless train of 
cqrrcspondiiig thoughts and connected allusions — that magip^ 
powder that conjures and compels into its service the most 


Mttchell*^ Aristop/iaufs* 

ymote, refractory ideas, and surprises us at every turn, like un- 
^kxpected light, with something tliat at once startles and delights 
the mind* — As the fabled touch of the Phrygian monarch trans- 
’niuted the meanest materials into gold, — or as the chemist ex- 
^ tracts a spirit from a thousand seemingly unpromising substan- 
'ces, — ^the unwearied and prolific fancy of Aristophanes can find 
matter for his drollery or sarcasm, where a less fertile or less 
energetic genius would slumber or despair. A beard, * — a puff 
of smoke, -f — a termination, J — ^the blunder of a clown, H — the 
lisp of Alcibiades, § — everj tiling and any thing is made subser- 
vient to his purf loses of personal attack. Once let him be start- 
ed, and it is vain to conjecUire whither he will lead, or where 
please to stop. His rcatless wit flows on — sometimes sparkling 
in antithesis — sometimes pungent in a gibe — sometimes insip^l 
in a pun, f — but never for an instant failing him, or threatening 
his readers with a drought. Porsius,ff — a satirist to whom IJry- 

* Ecclesiaz, v, 101. t Vespac, v. 34*2. 

J Nubes, V. 642. H Ib. v.213. § Vespa?, v. 45. 

^ His passion for puns might have made him, in later times, the 
pride and envy of a Cambridge common-room. Attic ears may have 
relished than well enough, — but we should pity the translator who 
could think it worth while to imitate tlicm in his vernacular idiom. 

•ff A word in behalf of a favourite author, who is not near so much 
read or admired as lie ought to be, must be allowed us. We forget 
whose observation it is — ‘ that the difficulty in Juvenal is to dtoose 

* a meaning — ^in Persius to^find one in which there is much more 
quaintness than truth. His difficulties are much magnified through 
the self-created mists with which laziness surrounds luni, and may 
generally be easily dispelled if we %vill but recollect the dramatic air 
he has studiously given to his compositions, and the extreme com- 
pression of thought at which he aims. His metre may be called 
‘ scabrous and hobbling ; ’ but it is at least as harmonious as that of 
Horace, and, for more important particulars, even Dryden acknow- 
ledges that ‘ he is never wanting to us in some profitable doctrine, 

* and in exposing the opposite vices to it ; * nor can he stigmatize 
him for great indecency, except in one passage of his 4tli Saiire. — In 

* great 
ursts o 
fhere can be nothing 

me bursts of serious poetry he is wouderfiilly striking and sublime. 

nothing finer than that apostrophe in the 3d Satire, 


w* Magne pater Divum ! ’ &c., whence Milton lias taken 
■ ■ . . • • saw 

Virtue in her shape how loycly ; saw, and pin'd 
His loss 

' and the magnificent close of the 2d, eulogized by Lord Chatham, 
k*,*flfhich we trace in Milton’s lines — 

\ . , . . O Spirit, that dost prefer 

Before all temples tli’ upriglit heart and puie ! — 

*18 4. ^ Miti^elV s Aristopha^B v 

den by no means does justice, and whom no comisieht^r ex(J^ 
cept Casaubon seems to have thoroughly understood,— is the , 
only writer we can mention wlio comes at all near to Aristo- 
phanes in this quality of inexhaustible fertility. Perhaps the 
consciousness of such resemblance might heighten the entliii- 0 * 
si asm wMth which that Roman hails him as the PR^X5RAN- 
DIS SEN EX * of the Grecian comedy ; but it is an epithet to 
which the * audacious ’ Cratiiius, or the- * angry * Eiipolis 
himself, could hardly have objected. — The boast Aristophanefe 
has pul into tlic mouth of his Chorus in the Acharnians, — 

flVTA* avTov xAsa; 

ere Koti Kcut^ttt^enm rqv 

«^a>Tii(r£v x^uret fAiv etvrevij xeri^et r»ig vatvcri K^otrevTiV 
iiTot rovrov rev xeti^rnvy xen^evg lixei x-etM xeXXet^ 

Ttvrovg yet^ revg ihfi^e/xeug xe?iv ^eT^rtavg yeyivtiT^xiy 
vcxi riA xeMfAa xeXv vtKvitretv^ revrev ^vjx/ievXev ip^evrxg -j' 

—may appear plausible enough to have been more than a ^ mere 
jeu (ie tlieatre, ’ if our readers shall think that we are borne out 
by the reality in the praises wc have bestowed upon the bold- 
ness of his patriotism, and the richness of liis satire. 

Language and versification are j)oinU of scarcely less import- 
Aiice, when we are considering the merits of a Poet ; ^nd in these, 
says Mons. 8chlogcl, ^ Ins excellence is not barely acknowledged 
— ‘ it is such as 10 entitle him to take his place among the first 

* ])oets to wliora Greece has given birth.* He might have said 
still more: — Aristojdiancs is wholly without a competitor in 
these respects. The tripping lightness and airy grace of his 
trochaic metres, and the majestic sw'cll of the anapaestic tetra- 
meter that has taken its name from him, arc fraught with niu- 

* Pers. Sat. I. v. 121<. 

f Thus rendered by Mr Mitchell. — 

‘ And so far, sirs, liath Fame tongued his boldness and name, 
that wdien Sparta to Persia sent mission, 

Her ambassadors tell, how the king sifting well, 
question'd deep and M'ith learned precision. 

And foremost ask'd he, of the twain who at sea 
shew'd most prowess, commanding the ocean ; — 

In which nation next teach docs the bard by his speech 
and liis taunts stir offence and commotion. 

Who, ” says he, most incline* to that poet divine, 
to his counsels of wisdom low bending ; 

In war shall that state most her fortunes make great 

and her morals at home best be mending. " ^ 

A,c1i(nr» V. J*tqjiSm p* 88* 

' 1990* iiitcbdl^s Jrisiophanes* 


Vsic the most * eloquent, * even under all the disndvantagcs of* 
^eglected accents an<l modern pronunciation : while a single 
glance at Sutdas or Hesychius is .sufficicut to convince ns how 
'much of his native tongue owes its prcseivation to his writ- 
inuSj-^and how vast those treasures must he, from whose roposi- 
^ tories the Ofccian Lexicographers have drawm sucli ovcid; wing 
stores. Had the Humes of Omar reached the whole of his 
productions, posterity could never have rightly estimated the 
exbaustless power, the endless flexibility, the prodigal exube- 
rance of the magnificent lanafuage in which tlioy arc embodied: 
— could never have tasted the true rclisli of that Attic Silt, 
which though soinetinics harsh and acrid — the * salrst xenenaii^ 
of Stmeca — miglit oftener seem to have collected Irom that 
very wave which gave birth to Aphrodite * herself; — nor have 
traced to one maternal womb so many of what apj)ear, on a su- 
perficial inspection, the idiomatic graces of other tongues. — If 
vve (dlow the name of Plutarch once more to cross our pages, 
it is not for the purpose of confuting his ridiculous charges un- 
der this head, which even the zealous Frischlinus dismisses with 
a smile, f buf merely to show liow far the ardour of a thorough 
Platoiiist — (for Plutarch, as the devoted admirer of Socrates 
and Plato, had his own motives for endeavouring to depreciate 
Aristophanes) — could hurry him, in spite of t!ie conviction of his 
very ears. The following is his alrocimts f criticism, as Friscldiii 
justly terms it : • Tln^re is, sooth to say, in the structure of 
‘ his phraseology soiuething tragi-comic, bombastic as well as 
< pedestrian, — there is obscurity, — there is vulgarity, —there are 

• turfridity and pompous ostentation, — together with a garrulity 

• anJftrifling that are oiioiigb to turn the stomach ! ' if — Bnna 
verba IHutarche ! — we weP may cry with honest Nicodemus. It 
is amusing enoiigli to find such blaspiten'.ies as tliese in a writ- 
er, who reckons it one of the worst symptoms of indignity 
to use nmgli or violent expressions where milder phrases are at 
hand — ^ — and who would soften down the 
J'erociuiia insanity ol C ’ieoii into thfc gentle rejirobalioii oi' a J utile 
levity ! II 

; * The compliment oi PluUnxh to Menander. 

-f t Nicod. Prischlini defensio Aristopliaiiis contra Plutarch! crimi- 
nation es. 

t hiS"* fJtiv ttv Iv ryi xetTUiDctvr. ra>v iv^accrem eovra rc $caut:',cVf 

r9 e-oBx^ayf ro x(rx(Peix, Ktuvom^Sy kxi ix km 

. ^Xvx^tx vxvrtahe. Plut. Aristoph. et Menandri Comp, 

\ f De Herodoti Malitjnitate Comment. 

' , II i{ v'^nrx KXi fxxv.xv K,M6JV9ti fiX?^Ko>f f) -Dc UcTOdot.- 

* ^Malig. Comment, p. 385. edit. Xylan. 

MitcfielPs Arisidplbzni^ ; iSw* 

It is an observation of Mens* Schlegeli that * in.nial^ paisisaires 
® of serious and earnest poetry, which (thanWs to the bolitidlebs// 

* variety and lawless ibrniatioii of the popular comedy of A- 

‘ thens) he has here and there introduced, Aristophanes shows * 

• himself to be a true poet, and capable, had he so chosen, of 
‘ rcacliing the highest eminence even in the more dignified de- 
‘ partments of his art. ’ — This is in fact a very strong point in 
hifi poetical character,- — and our applause is due, not only to 
tlie great intrinsic merit of tlie passages themselves, but to the 
extreme taste with which they are uniformly Introduced. There 
is no false glai-e, that would be misplaced and unnatural if dif- 
fused over the surface of comic composition: — they hre but the 
streaks of sunshine, that give variety and beauty to a landscape. 
\Vc are never disagreeably reminded of tlie ‘ purpureus pannus,’ 
— tlic purple rag botched in to shame the circumjacent mean- 
ness of a beggar’s apparel. It is the ^ illusa: auro vestes, ’ — the 
garment trifkrd with gold, but not overloaded. — It always seems 
suited to tlie texture it adorns, — and truly the ground is rich 
enough to bear a little embroidery. — Aristophanes is no osten- 
tatious coxcomb to drag down Poetry from her car of fire, and 
parade her in the common eye, merely for die vaiiiw of dis- 
playing his acijuaintancc, — ^yet he will sometimes fling the 
reins into her hands, and is not the man to balk her if she in- 
vite him to her side. TJiere are a thousand places wc could 
refer to, that bear the stamp of this * communion high. ’ — Wc 
<[Ucstion whether the united genius of Pindar and Euripides, — 
fond as the latter is of the nightingale, — could have produc- 
ed any thing superior to that burst of lyric ccstacy * in which 
lie calls on Philomela from her ^ leafy yew ^ to challenge the 
minstrelsy of Heaven. — Nor will the descriptions of Ovid or of 
Milton, stand a competition with that tone of melancholy gran- 
deur in which lie opens the Parabasis of (he * Birds* and 
penetriilcs the mysteries of Chaos and ‘ Old Night.* f — In- 
deal we might safely stake the justice of our panegyric upon the 
whole conception and exccutioli of that fascinating drama, — the 
most fantastic production of his fantastic genius, — ^that seems 
meant for fays alone to act in fairy-land ; — that Mid$wnmcr'‘ s~ , 
Niij:Jil-Dream of llic Grecian stage, of which it is not too much 
to >ay, that it is what Shakespeare, had he been an Athenian, . 
would have written, or, had he read Greek, ivould have admir- 

We liave much too slender data to proceed upon, did we 
wdsh to institute a comparison, in this respect, between Aristo- ^ 

* Aves. V. 200. 

j' Ibid. V. 635. 



Hilid his preciarsors or coiitem|K>raries in the same line^ 
i»f whose works nothing but the most meagre I'nigments have 
Escaped the ravages of time. But with regiud to his immediate 
rivals; — the remains of Cratiniis are by no means of a nature 
to justify the praises of Quinctilian; — and the precocious talent 
of Eupolisrf^: fails in competition, when wc find it empKnod up- 
on the same subject wdth the muse of Aristophanes. That ce- 
lebrated verse of the Acharnians, in which we yet to hear 
the eloquence of PerieJes convulsing Greece, — lliat verso which 
Cicero f and Pliny, J Diodorus || and Lucian, J have alike ap- 
}>ealcd to as the best monument of the orjtor’s fame, — if con- 
tnxstcd with the cold and laboured eulogy ofEiipolis, will leave 
little doubt upon the mind, ^ that his superior vigour in the pas- 
sages of serious })oetry was one of the grounds upon which the 
title of Aristophanes to the acknowledged sovereignty of the an- 
cient comedy was founded. 

So many brilliant qualities almost required a foil ; or at least 
may cover one transgression. It is the severity of impartial criti- 
cism that forces us to admit, that although Aristophanes undoubt- 
edly moderated the spirit of unrestrained and profligate obscenity 
that wantoned in the old hags and drunkards of })rcceding bards, 1] 
enough of it remains in his writings to form a foul blot upon a mind 
which, in the language of a well-known epigram, the Graces hatl 
selected for their peciitiar portioni^ff Those Powers of the Ce- 

J J Eupolis is said to have written 17 comedies by the time that he 
had lived as man^’^ years. 

f Cic. in Oratorc ad Urutura. Num, 29. Ed. Gronov. 

J Plin. Sec. LI. ep. 20. 

II Diod. Sic. LXII. p. 807. 

J Lucian, in Dcmostli. encom. p. 693- Ed. Arnst. 

* The lines ol* Eupolis referred to are as follow's : 

evTo; iynix' Myz-tv* 

'OTTcig 7ratei?\.fiei\ ot ayct^ot 

‘EKKcc,^tKX >nsi pijrag*?* 

*ret)^vi MyciV Jfi y eevra ja 

Our»( KXi fAOre^ vm pitrcga/v, 

Kiyrgev lyxetTiXiTTi To *5 Eupolis Iv 

f Vid. Nubes. v. 555. 

This epigram is ascribed to Plato, — it runs thus^ 

ZvtrovTXif 'A^i^o(pxvov;, 

tOL. XXXIV. JSO. 68- T 

wave, plmit at the 

Plwebus, and disp^ase to momls best of heavenly J 

— wisdom, beauty, and &fne, Jt^showld have shrunk away icom^ 
such contamination, or have spelled it from the chosen teinpie, 
that was never to fal!. It is an unnatural coalition of ugliness 
with elegance, — a Caliban basking on the lap of iui Ariel. Yet, 
without allowing the spirit of the Advocate to interfere with tiie 
calmer duties ol the Judge, we may urge for Aristophanes, that 
his greatest grossiicss is always playful, and his longest indul- 
gence in it comparatively short. It is a sop — and nothing more 
—for the Cerberns of the prevailing taste of the age. This at 
least is the (‘ isv^ in eight out of the eleven of Isis plays that s e- 
iiiain witli pcsslcriiy. It was certainly not the bent of his mind 
to be immoral, — thoiiglj, like Swift, he miglit not care to wade 
through a little nnstiiiess for the sake of a joke. Tiierc is no 
^ivnlhn'i/ig in tite inia) ; no indecency that clings to its ground, 
or rducuintiy gives way * with many a longing, lingering look 
behind.’ liis movt indelicate writing is generally introductory 
to some passage of exceeding spirit or j)(>cti(*al beauty, to 
which his mind rt’turns ’wdth an elastic impulse from having 
biitni forced out of its native inclination. Like Antmus he may 
grovel on the earth for a moment,— but it is only to rise into the 
fresh air again with increased alacrity and renovated vigour. 
Springing from such j^tmreos as the l^Haiiic Myiun and the 
Margairs c.f Homer, the Ancient C-omedy ctmld not be expect- 
ed, under any maiiiigeinenl, to become a peri'cct model of un- 
interrupted purity- We cannot be surprised to find some pol- 
lutions in the stream, when its fouiitain-hcad>^ were these, — nor 
offended at detecting those |a)lhuious in the earlier part of its 
course, when wc know that it had not left tlieni all behind, even 
w'hfjn filtered- through into tlm pages of Menander. ^ Omfua 
Jjiuniruc Lffrrjars’ — the charr.ctd* which Pliny bestows upon 
that poet, — is pretty iritclligibic testimony against him, although 
we had not Terence lor a slronger and more suhsumtial evi- 

Wc are persuaded that what w'e have advanc^vl concerning 
the nature <ff the Old C; jiiedy, and llio merhs c/f him who wm 
its prince, however cxtravi.gaut it may appear to superheial 
stiKlents or to timid reasoners, will be fully admitted by all that 
are thoroughly acfpiaintcd uith the ArislojdKinic writings : — and 
we have the ratlier avoided attempt at overstrained ingenuity, 

;{ .{ Pindar. Olymp. XIV- v. 1. — V — 15- 
^ Vide Jtau. V- TJ6, Nubes. 075. Aves. v. CCIJ), &c. &c." 

imii iiided nt a perfisset aimplk^^ our observatioxus^ tliat^lfaa 
eouiplete sincerity of wr owu conviction might be made as 
aifest as possible* Arislit^hwies will of course contiime to bo 
underrated by all who ehoose to submit ancient subjects |a the 
test of modern opinions : who cannot perceive any excellence 
in dramas that are composed upon rules entirely diflPerent from 
the only principles they can understand: or who are gene- 
rously satisfied to draw decided inlerences from what floats up- 
on the surface, without the pains or perhaps without tlie pow- 
er of diving into those depths which so often liide the gems of 
‘ purest vi.y, ’ Jii^ice to Mr Mitchell makes it nov\' high time 
for ns to hasten to the consideration of Jiis work. 

Shenstone— or some one who was as fcmcl, as that very in- 
considerable author, of* turning commonplaces — has remai ked, 

* tluit every original writer wonders no one ever thoiTght of the 
‘ best possible subject before, — every translator — of the best pos- 
‘ sible original.* — Though Aristophanes his undeniably been 
thought of before, — and by sundry aspirants, — we still think 
that, in one respect at least, Mr Mitchell has hit upon the ‘ best 

• possible original, ’ — inasmueb as no translation has hitherto 

appeared by any means satisfactory. It has seemed as if lua 
spirit could not be Transfused, without losing all its and 

flavour, into any other language than Jiis native longue: tliat 
we might ahnc'st write Dante's terrible inscription for tt.e gales of 
hell upon his tide-page, — anti warn the most resolute interpreter 
to expect nothijig for his portion but despair. — In Latin we 
have Bergler’s translation of the Fro^s^ w'hich is niiidi ♦ ;o Ti- 
morously literal, to afibrd any satisfaction to the reader oi l :st*, or 
any illustration of obscure and doubtful pass^jges to the scholar; — 
Pluius^ the Ciouih^ the FrogF^ the and i\\e Achaniians^ by 

Nicodemiis Frischlin, are so intolerably full of the grossest blun- 
ders that we cannot conceive why Kn<;rer sluuild have printed 
this traduction in his otherwise excf'llent edition, except as a 
continual excuse for his own comments; — ami the fVasj^s, Pcaccy 
and Lijshiralc, aie rendered by Septimus Fioriis iiiio such a 
strain of crabbed phraseology and obsolete diction, as makes Ijis 
explanation far more difficult to coiu})iehend tiian the original- — 
France has given us tlie ‘ Theatre of Aristophanes, * by Poin- 
sinet de-Sivry, written partly in prose and partly in verse, — a 
work of no conspicuous merit; (he Tiird^ by Jhiiviii tlic voung- 
er ; and Plvtm and the Clouds from the pen of Madame IJacier, 
— whose 200 perusals of the latter play have not saved lier front 
falling into many strange mistakes. Wielanil, llic (German 
translator of the Clouds^ has the advantage of writing in a lan- 
guage, that alone of modern tongues may compete vritli the 

MitchelVi Aristophanes 

rich iDciod}" and tuneful inflections of the Greek; — but ^not- / 
withstanding his extensive erudition and great impartiality, ) 
winch Mr Mitchell gratefully acknowledges, — we cannot quote 
either that translation, — nor his — as more tlian ust>- ■ 

fill aids to a person engagctl in a smnlnrtask. — The literature of 
England has not been enriched bv any complete version of this 
Poet, — and the attempts that have been made, from time to 
time, to ellect one, are not such as to make us regret that the 
labour has b(?en reserved for the bands into whicli it has fallen 
at last. White’s translation of the Clmids and Plulus we have 
never seen ; hiiL that of Theobald is taken, nbt from Aristo- 
phanes, whom lie could not understand, but from the French 
of Miirliimc Dacier, which he has servilely imitated. Tire Clouds 
of Cumberland is a well- written, liigh-sounding poem, — but it 
is not tile lie has not caught the tone, nor expressed 

the manner ol* the Athenian bard. He has made it too stiff, 
too pompous. It is Aristophanes imprisoned in bri>cad^‘, and 
mounted upon stilts into the bargain. The Frags by Dunster 
has not only this fault, but is exceedingly dull and vapid be- 
sides; which cannot be affirmed witli any iriitfa of Cumberland’s 
production. We believe we have enuniorated all the versions 
tliat Inive been essayed in our own language, except it be the 
very stupid translation in prose of IHidus that disgraces the 
memories of Fielding and VViliiani Young; and a most impu- 
dent version of the Jiirds^ — every second woid an error, — [>ub- 
lished by an anonymous * Member of one ol* the UniveiVitics, ’ 
in what he calls a comico-prosaie style, witii tliis modest motto 
from Juvenal, 

IJaud ficul- am rgunl, qiiorttm virtalihns (djslat 

Res august a domi : — 

which, as it has conceivable reference to Aristofdumcs, mijst 
be presumed to a})piy to the translator himself. Knowledge of 
Greek, or an ability for translation, art* not to he reckoned a- 
niong his wbaiever they may be. — It is no greaf com- 

pliment to Mr Mitdicll, after this, to siy ihai Ijis ver.-'ioii, as 
far as the present volume carries it, is inct'mparably the best 
that has been given to the public. Put wlnai wc adtl that we 
consider him, judging from his publication, to be a writer (al- 
ly and admirably ejualified to accomjilLsh the difficult task he 
has undertaken, — and to present the literary world in this coun- 
try with a translation of Aristophanes completely adecjuatc to 
the merits of the great Original, — we esteem this as praise so 
exceedingly high, that it shall make ns I he less tender of ex- 
pressing our dissatisfaction w'herever lie has fallen short — we 
will not say of our expectations — but of our wislies and his 

Mitchell’^ Aristophanes* 1?91 

powers. The English translators hitherto have never proceeJ- 
beyond ,oite play, or two at the utmost : — like the * chat- 
t^boxes * of the Ranas, they have done no more than ap- 
proach the Muse, or have retired exhausted by a single em- 
brace. ^tr Mitchell seems made of stouter stuffy — siiid wo 
doubt not will maintain his promise of greater perseverance. 
We have yet only the foot of Herciilt's,— but if he will correct 
some parts of his design, and — under favour — attend to a few 
hints wc shall feel it our office to administer, wc believe tliat 
the renniimlcr of his work will even improve upon the sample.— 
The volume now put forth is made up of two distinct parts : — 
versions of the Acharnians and the Knii^hts ^ — which have never 
yet been rendered into English, — ^and a most interesting Preli- 
minary Di^scoursc, to which we shall beg leave first, to call the 
altenlion of our readers. 

With a few inaccuracies and inconBistencics of reasoning, — of 
which We have already pointed out some specimens ; — without 
any attempt to support his arguments by the aid of verbal cri- 
ticism, — for indeed Mr Mitchell is too good a soldier in the cause 
of literature to make himself a mere pioneer, and has too just a 
notion of his own peculiar powders to devote himself to Avliat — - 
except in the hands of a Person or an ElmsJoy — is worse than 
trilling'; — and with here and there a little needless episodic de- 
viation from the straight path of his design, for tlie sake of dis- 
playing stores of information that are extremely co])io ns; — we 
consider this Prelirmnriry Disctmrse to be one of tlie most anius- 
inir, at the same time valuable treailses, we ever remcmlior 
to have perused. It is amusing — as the work oi* a man who 
has thought njuch, and read perhaps still more; and whose 
command of a style at once so rich, so lively, and so dramatic, 
would of itself ^i\c interest to a much duller subject than he has 
chosen to discuss. It is valuable — not only as it is always an 
important matter that Truth should be clearly ascertained and 
placed in as conspicuous a light as possible, — hut as it draws the 
curtain from a d<*paviinent of knowledge that has heretotore lain 
as a sort of terra incu^nita^ — opens a new world upon the eyes of 
« curious speculation, — and guides the .student to a greater fiimilia- 
! rity than has usually been attained with topics very inteie&ting 
in themselves, and essential towards a thorough comprcliensioTt 
of the Grecian classics. Seizing with particular felicity upon 
ground that has been strangely left unoccupied by precccling 
writers, he makes it a vehicle for conveying to his readers a 
^reat variety of collateral information on almost every poin 

Tflt Vide Raaas. v. 92. 

292 Jlristophann. 

connected with the ancient comic drama, — and though we can- 
not always coincide with his sentiments fwaWd7f^//jy expressed, ^ 
we cordially assent to the main objt'ct of his reasoning, and 
him all gratitude for die pains he seems to have bestowed upon 
his task, and the learning he has adducecl in support^ of opinions 
with tlie general tenor of which we so heartily agree. 

(hnnberland — while he defended Aristophanes from the ab- 
surd charge of collusion with Anytus and Melitus in their pro- 
secution of Socrates — a charge directly confuted by the stub- 
boin argument of dates, if indeed the contemptuous ‘language 
of the Apologia aid not evince it to be one that it is ridicu- 
lous to ativance with any appearance of seriousness, — did not 
venture to justify die jioel’s motives for his celebrated attack 
upon that philosoplier, but, barely claiming for them the cha- 
racter of being nniural^ gave up the point of their liberalit)" and 
fairnciss. — The Messrs Sclilegcls — w'hilc they place tlie prince of 
Ancient Comedy on die lofty eminence lie deserves to occu- 
py as a poet and a patriot — can find no excuse for liis ^ repre- 

* senting in so odious colours the* most wise and the most vir- 

< of all his fellow- citizens, * the title they clioose to apply 
to Soti ates, but an almost inconceivable perplexity of intellect, 
by which they say ‘ he mingled «and confounded in his own 

* mind, even without wishing it, this inestimable sage with his 
^ enemies the Sophists, whose schools ho Irecjnentod in his ma- 
‘ turtr years, solely with the view of making himself master of 

< that which he intended to refute and ovtaflirow. * 

Mr Milelieil makes a bolder stand for Aristophanes ; and wliile 
he grapples so closely with his subject, and follows it up so minute- 
ly through all its bearings and wmding*^, that no one can call 
llis defence a piece ol simple declamation or of partial sophis- 
try, he contrives, pai tly by liis ingenuity, partly by his forcible 
statements, but still inon? by his candour, and even tenderness 
towards the great riiilosopiher, so to turn the whole current of 
our schoolhm/ prediiealons, that the most prejudiced person, wo 
think, must rise from the examination of his treatise convinced 
that the comic lard — so from deserving blame For the course 
1^1* pursued in voiisequence of what he saw and felt — is ^ entitled % 
^ to till gratitude of posterity for the assumption and execution \ 

< of the task, * In order to make out this position, it is evident 
that the writer has only to iilentify the Aristophanic Socrates 
with what must be supposed the faiiliful, or rather the favour- 
able character of that remarkable man, as it is detailed in the 
works ul‘ his aflectionate disciplcj^, Xenoplioj) and l^lato,— to* 

Vide Platonis * Apoiogiam Socratis, ’ §§ 2* S* 


liStSD. Mitchell’i Aristophanes. 

connect this character with that of the Sophists, — and by point- 
ing out the evils and mischiefs inflicted on society by the misdi- 
^>^ed ingenuity of that pestilential race, to set in its true light 
the spirit and the patriotism oi‘ him who was realljj their great 
antagonist, and who has left u-. in the Clouds so abhorrent a 
picture of flie noxious reptiles he was euvlcavourlng to crush. 

and the last ol* these propositions have been fully la- 
boured by Mr Mitchell — and witli a great deal of honesty as 
well as of eloquence: — on the sreond head, — the actual simili- 
tude between the Socratc; of Plato and the Sophists with whom 
that Socrates waged so incessant a warfare — he has not so much 
insisted, although it be a p‘oint necessary to be made out for the 
complete justice: iti on of Arij-ttiphanes. Without doing this, no 
one can be said to have done full ^ justice to a man, whose mo- 
‘ lives have been much mistaken, and whose character, iii con- 
^ sequence, has i)een unduly dciprcciatecL ’ But while Mr Mit- 
chell contends that }'>voofs have been displayed by him, ‘ that 
‘ the character of Sofaates is a little more open to remark, 
* than some admirers in their ignorance arc aware of, and more 
" than some in their knowledge arc willing to bring into notice, ' 
— he seciiis, like the executioner of Marius, so struck with the 
dignity of his victim, so awed by the splendid powers of Socra- 
tes, and the sublimity of some of the doctrines he unfolds, tliat 
ho has no heart to ileal the final blow, or to press hi-s assault so 
closely as he might have done. We confess that our own nerves 
are much more hardy. Wc have not that respect for the whole 
fabric oi' ancient philosophy — a tibric, within whose dark c'*lls 
the poetic genius of VIllGlL * had so nearly been immured, to 
waste its radiance like the lamp in a sepulchre, — a philosophy, 
in Physics so wildly visionary, so indolently satisfied with unex- 
pcrimeutal error, — in Elides so perplexed, so fluctuating, so un- 
satisfactory, — whicli can make us tremble to approach its shrine 
with any short oi' the incense of adulation, or regret to 
see the liollowness a!ul contradictions cf the principles upon 
whicli it proceeded, exposed even in the speculations of liini 
wlio went so much further in his advances towards truth than 
any otlier of his countrymen. Wc care not what reproache? 
wc may incur in the exposition of truth, — and shall, therefore, 
in following Mr M. through his examuiatioii of this fjuestiou, 
at least avoid the ineousistencies into which he has betrayed 
himself by his too great timidity. 

Mr Mitchell begins his task witli a slight and rapid sketch of 

* Vide Georgic. Lib. ii. v. 4-95. See also Dryden s Life of Virgil 
p. 3:k 

«94 l/TAiS^^s Ji-istopJtam. 

Grecian education, which is thus introclui^ed : < The of 

* the dramatic pieces of Aristophanes seems to haTC heen directed 

* against the state of private manilers in Athens ; in his Achani^/s ~ 

* he endeavoured to moderate the insolence of national success, ^nd * 

* to infuse juster notions respecting a great public measure, which 

* wa^ putting the existence of the Athenians as a people at stake ; 

‘ while in the Knights, or, as it may more properly he termed, the 

* Demagogues, a mirror was held up to his fellow-citizcns, where 
‘ the ruler and the ruled saw themselves reflected with equal fidelity, 

^ and by which posterity has gained a complete knowledge of the 

greatest historical phenomenon that ever appeared, the Athenian 

* Demus. It roniained for the author to strike at the root of all 

* these evils, private and public, domestic and political, — a inischiev* 

* oils and most pernicious system of Education. This was undoubt- 

* ly the origin and object of the Clouds, and a brief outline of the 

* progress of knowledge among the Greeks, and more particularly 

* of that branch of it, which was comprehended under the name of 

Philosophy, ” will at once tend to explain the aim of the author, 

* and throw some light upon the comedy itself. ' — He accordingly 
traces the Athenian Pupil through the hands of the Graininarian 

who taught him Homer, with all his own criticisms, 
cornaientarics, explanations, and interpolations, upon that great 
Text book of his instructions, — into those of the teacher of 
Music who continued to cultivate the imagination at the 

expense of the understanding, — of the master of the Gymna- 
sium, where he was exposed to learn something worse than the 
mere exercises of the Palsestra, * — and lastly of tho Sojdiist, 
whose sole object — besides the accpiisitjon of fame and of money 
— seems to have been to fit his disciple for the ruin of his coun- 
try’, and the utter destruction of his own character. Mr Mit- 
chell’s strong and masterly delineation of’ these insidious pseudo- 
philosophers is well vrorthy of a little attention. 

Protag(.rjis of Abdera, the great ‘ Delial ’ of the Sophists, 
and the first person who acquired distinction in this profession, 
culled by the hand of Doinocritus from the obscurity of Jiis ori- 
ginal trade, and planted on a fatal elevation by the instructions 
of that pf'ilosopher, and the akl of his own talents, became the 
UPAS of society, wliich was to spread far and wide its de^ly 
brajichcs, and droj) a mortal poison upon all that came beneath' 
iu shade. He was the first to announce, that * with him might 

* be acijuired, for a proper compensation, that species of know- 
^dedge, which was able to confound right and wrong, and make 

* tho w(jrse appear the belter cause, ’ He and his followers in 
the same School openly incuScated, • that not only what is whole^ 

* Vide Aristophaneixi in Pace. v. 762, in Vespis. v. 1025. 


^ some and useful had no actual suhstnncc in tlx insclvcs; hut 
‘ that honour and virtue, being die beginning and aim of what 
useful, existed only in tlic opinions and liahils of men : that 

■ ^ tli?^ fiist and best of all acipnsitions was Ehxjucnce, such as in 
‘ the senate, the ecclesia, the courts of law, and liie common in- 

■ * tercourse socicU", could steal, like ihe^ songs by which sc'r- 
‘ pents were charmed, upon the ears of their auditc^rs, and sway 
‘ their mimls at the will of the speaker : that, on all tx-caslons, 

‘ might makes right; that tlie property of the weak bcUaigs to 

< the strong, and that, whatever the law might say to the con- 

‘ trary, the voice of nature taught and justilietl thedcKtrine: 
‘ that luxury, inteinperan-^c, licentiousness, wxrc virtue 

‘ and happiness : that the greatest of blcs^ii'.gs was tfie i)ower of 
‘ committing wrong with impunity, and the greatest of evils the 

* inability to revenge an injury received. ’ — ‘ Such were some 
‘ of the doctrines, ' says Mr iClitchcil, ‘ uhlcli, advanced with 

* all the pow'crs of dialectic skill, and drc'pping upon a soil too 
® well fitted by an imperfect education lor ti.'eir reception, con- 
‘ fused the intellects, and perverted the nolious of the young 

* Athenians. ’ Their passion for ili-ipntation upon all subjects 
is described by Plato as somcUiing beyond the reach of decay 
or mortalit 3 % ‘ No sooner, ’ be says, •’ does one of our young 

* men get a taste of it, than he feels dciiglited, as if he had 

^ covered a trea.^urc of* wisdom. C'arhcd away by a pleasure 
^ that amounts to madness, he finds a subject of dispute in every 

< tliiijg that occurs. At one lime both sides of the subject are 

* considered and reduced. t<» one. ^ At another, the subject is 
^ analyzed and split into parts: himself becomes tlic first and 

< principal victim of his ov/n doubts and diiliculties: his neigh- 

* hour, whether ju^iior, senior, or equal, no matter, is the next 
‘ sufferer; he spares not father nor motljcr, nor any one who 
‘ will give him the loan of his em’s; scarcely animals escape 
‘ him, and nnich less his fellow-creatures; even ll:o foreigner 

< }ia«m security but the want of an iiilcrprctcr at hand to go 
‘ bet^en llicm. ’ f We may imagine how rejoiced } oaths of 

^ Wc remember the o})ening of a lawyer’s speech upon the Cir- 
cuit, which may give an idea of the sophistical phiat^cology and mode 
of reasoniiig: — ‘ My Lord, if there ever was a case, — in w^hich one 
‘ case ought to be conjoined with another case, — M/v case is that 
t case ! ’ — ‘ case, Mr * * • ? ’ — was his Lordship’s gruff but 

humorous reply. 

, f IMniebus, p, 74^ — Gil Lias, describing his own disputaiious pro- 
pensities, while a student at Oviedo, draws a similar picture : ‘ I was 
^ so much in love with dispute, that I stopped patscngeis; kiiov. n, or 

29 G Arisiophmn^ KoVi 

this disposition would be to fall in the way of instractors who, 
as Plato describes them in tl>e Pbaidon, ‘ when they were di^ 
‘ cussintF any question, cared not liow the subject thfey were 
‘ in<r really stood, — 7 but only considered how the positioru^^hey 
‘ themselves laid down might be made appear true to tlie by- 
^ stnnders. ’ J And^ again, in the Thcjetetiis — ‘ Itfis as easy to 

* talk with madmen as it is with them. Their writings have 
‘ nothing steady in them : all are in a state of perpetual mo- 

* tion. As for a pause in disputation and inten ogation, or a 

* cjuicL question or answer, it is a ehance infinitely Jess lliaii no- 
‘ tiling lliat yon got surh a thing from them. For their minds 
^ are in a perpetual ^1/ite of restlessness : and woe to him that 
‘ puts an interrogative ! instantly comes a flight of enigmatical 
‘ liuic words, iliit' arrows from a quiver; mid if yon ask a rea- 

* son of this a-suiilt, the result is another discharge, witli mcrc- 
‘ [v ,*> eirmg?' of names, ’ |1 

/iOC(»i’ding]y Protagoras fouiul his new trade more profit- 
ab'.a than binding faggots. Incited by his success, a numer- 
ous train of adventurers still more flagitious flocked to A- 
theiis, and taught the same maxims in terms yet more open. 
— Knowledge is — says Lord Bacon : Knowledge is 

— said the Sophists,— and they brought their wits to a 
good market for substantial iug the boast. Like tlio admirable 
C'richton, and other chadataiis of the rnitUlle ages, who were 
ac■cn^•tomed to set up challenges, oflering to dispute dr omni 
srihiliy — they jn-ofessed themselves ready to answer every ques- 
tion, and to teach every branch .of knowledge. The eflect 
of such tuirioii upon the manners and the morals of Atlicnian 

* unknown, and projiosed arguments to them ; and sometimes meet- 
‘ ing with f liberniau geniuses, w ho were very glad of the occasion, it 

* was a good jest to see us dispute: by our extravagant gestures, 

* giirnace, contortions, our eyes full of fury, and our mouths full of 
‘ foam, one would liavc taken us for bedlamites rather than||biIosa- 

* plieis. ’ — Vol. I, p, ^ 

J 3ri Dvedonc, § 40. Ed, Oxon. 

[[ In Tlu'.'ftcto, p. IfiO. 'file process of ratiocination taught by 
Rairaond Lully* as it is described by his follower Cornelius Agrippa, ’ 
strongly reminds us of the Clrecian Sophists. Ey this art, says he, 

* tveryc man might pleiitifnliyc dispute of what matter he wmldc, 

‘ and with a certain anificiui and huge heap of nownes and verbes 

* invente and dispute With ostentation, full of trifling dcceites upon 

* both sides. ’ (Corn. Agrip. of the. Vanity of Sciences, Englished 
by .lit. San. Gent. Loud. 1575.) It is thiis) rneclianical process which*^ 
Swifr. ridicules by his machine in the academy of Lagado. — Scott’s 
l^fe of Swift, p. 

society we tnay easily conjecture. Plato and Aristophanes 
.bear ample testimony to the perversion of manners in both the 
and iht? lower classes: and the iinpartinl pen of Thucy- 
‘didc^ias left upon record a deterioration of morals not only in 
Athens, but throughout Greece^ adequate, and yet not more 
than adequaft*^ to the causes which were thus sot at work to pro- 
duce it. * A ' baneful and nialigiiunt vajx)ur was spreading 
abroad beneath the surlace; and drooping flowers anil withered 
verdure upon every side gave tokens of its (l«‘s(>laUng course, 

‘ To dispel by the })owe’«-fnl weapoii of ridicule iJiese niists of 
‘ error, — to give a finished picture of a plain unlettered man as 
‘ he was likely to come from the hands of the Soplii.Ms, — to res- 
‘ cue the young men of family from tfic hands of such flagitious 
‘ preceptors, and restore (hem to that noble simplicity of man- 
‘ iiers, which liad prevailed in Greece in the time of Homer, 
* iu’d which had liol entirely disappe^ared even iji the days of 
< Herodotus, was unquestionably ibc objt'ct of the Gioiids. ’ 
The ol)ject was laudable — was noble — and the uuinncr in which 
it wa-i atteni})ied docs as miicii credit to the heart and iindcr- 
stf'iuling, as it docs to the inventive genius and poetic powers 
oi‘ Aristopiinries. IJoxv the attempt was made — the plot and 
plan of the meniorablr^ drama, on which the Poet bestowed 
the whole force ol’ his consummate skill — must, from the writ- 
ings ol‘ Cumberland, be well known to the generality of read- 
ers. It is not our purpose to linger upon this part of the sub- 
ject : wc have a juoposition to make out, from which Mr 
Mitclulfs courage has shrunk, tliough he has collected such 
ample niattcr I'c.r sujmorting it: and, despite that lialo of glory, 
wliicli virtues and intellect that ‘ form an epoch in the history 
‘ of man* have liirown a’-ound the son of So})hroniscus, we can 
see enough to believe that Aristophanes was as liappy in se- 
lecting the cojiii al liguro for his piece, as be was in the other 
constituent }>arts of tliis bis greatest production. We certainly 
should* not be content to rest the defence of the comic bard up- 
on either of the lame ojid inipotent conclusions to which all Mr 
M.’s reasoiiing conducts him ; namely — either * that the partie* 
‘ were very little known to each other, ’ and that Aristophanes 
wrote rather in ignorance than with any intention of exposing laults in Socrates, wliich his personal virtues aiid magna- 
riimilv made only t};e more liangerous,— or , that he described 
Socrates only as he w'iis at //ic thne^ or such as he couceived liim 
to be, — a conjecturo that Mr M. has tlie flagrant incond^teu- 

* Seethe AceuLint of tlu: Corcyraeau Sedition: Thucyd. Book 3* 

p, 188 . 

298 Atistophanes* 


cy to \irgc in the face of his own arf^mcnt that ^ wety single 

♦ trait ot the At htopkanic Socrates may be traced in the IHato^^ 

♦ flic ’ — a picture drawn from the most intimate knbwledge^re 
than twenty years after tlie Clouds had been acted, and limned ' 
in such favourable colours as the veiy safety of tlie artist made 
it necessary should be employed. || 

We know from the vai’ious authorities upon the Life and 
Conversation of Socrates, that have come down to us, that 
he was the immediate disciple of Archelans, one of the lo- 
nian school, and thus derived his philosophical descent regu- 
larly from Thales, of whose disciples it is with truth affirmed 
— ♦ Their facts were few, but their disputes were Jong; if 

♦ tJicy could not convince, they could at least reason : one 

♦ absurdity led them to another; but every absurdity fur- 

♦ nished a disputation of words, — ^and words, even without 

♦ ideas, were as the breath of life to the loquacious Athe-* 

‘ niaiis. * AVc have himself, or Plato for him, laying dolvn 
as a fundamental principle, ♦ that the Wicked man sins only 

♦ through igrioraiic(\ and that the end of his actions, like 

♦ that of all other men, is good, but that he mistakes the na- 
‘ turc of it, and uses wrong means to attain it, ’ — and in the 
same way, defining a virtue like bravery to he nothing but 
hio^'^ledge, f We have him described as one who, ♦ if not a So- 

♦ phist himsclfi was always in the company of Sophists, 

♦ who like them had given himself up deeply and unremittedly 
< to physical rcscarclies, ’ — and who ♦ in vanity and seltconceft 

♦ surpassed them all. ’ We find him spending his time not on- 
ly with sucJi ambitious and unprincipled young men as AicIWa- 
des and Critins, wdio left him as soon as they had gained their 
objects — a power oi speakinp^ and an aptitude for action, % upon 
principles which, it is very plain, notwithstanding the example 
of Socrates himself, might lead to any thmg but j>a(riodsm and 
moral excellence, — but with an Encleid, an Antistliehes, an 
Aristippus, men who, as Mr Mitchell expresses it, went from 
him ♦ lo form schools, whose names have since been synonymous 

♦ with sophistry, the coarsest effrontery, and the most undis- 

♦ guised voluptuousness. ’ The noble stand he made for the ^ 
laws of his country, in the famous case of the ten generals, 

II Preliminary fHscoprse, p. cxxxii. 

f Vicl. Aristot. Ethic* Lib. III. c. viii. ct Flatonem in Lachete et 

^ ym/rSxt tKtManwta Xiynir rt XcB* Mcmor* Lib* Xl, 

C. ii* $ 15. 

* Hist. Grace. Ub. I* c. 7. 

‘ Mtte&dry Aristophan^t. 29!l 

a stand so perfectly in unison with the permnal virtue and mag- 
nanimity of miud conspicuous in his character, and wliich may 
safely be alloA^ed and athnired without at all touching the qiies- 
^tion ol^the danger that lurked in his philosophical principles, — 
must save him from the repmach ‘ that neither practice nor rc- 
‘ dexion hati Ynade him acquainted! with the (bdicK of his ollice 

* as a senator : ’If but we have his own words to assure us ‘ that 
‘ to ask questions H or to answ^er them — to convic t or to l)c 
‘ convicted’ — were in his opinion * the great purposes for which 
‘ men should meet together; and a pen-son, ’ says Mr M. 

‘ who had decreed that his life should he a complete Jogoiua- 
‘ chy, could not Irave come to the contest IxJtter prepared; 

‘ nor, where § words were to be the weapons of warfare, coulcl 
‘ any man draw them from a better provided arpiory.’ Let us add » 
to this the terrible catalogue of *^faht\ ’ ‘ abmrdy ’ ‘ unfeeling^ ^ 
and ‘ guillif ’ opinions put into the mouth of Socrates by Plato, 
in the lilih b(X)k of the Republic, and visited with such just .and 
spirited reprobation by Mr Mitchell, and — for lighter matters — 
tbc' actual conversations of Socrates in the Lysis, the Cratylus, 
the Pliilebus, or the Parmenides of Plato, which give so fair 
occasion for the scenes in t!ie Clouds, representing tlie bolting- 
tul) — the cock and hen })uUct — &c.,— the constant appeals to 
the Dirmon who was the T^equid of this Torralba — the slovenly 
appearance and want of cleanliness objected to him by Diogenes 
— and we shall not only admit with Mr Mitchell that ‘ tlie my- 
‘ sticism, the garrulity, the hair-splitting niceties of language, 

‘ the contempt for exterior appearance, the melancholy leni- 

< perament, the strong addiction to physical pursuits, the belief 
in a supernatural agency, to an extent not precisely recognis- 
‘ od by the religion of his country, cveyp single irait the 
‘ ArUtopIicvnic Socrates may be. traced in the Ptatonic^ ’ but wc 
shall feel compelled to go at least so much beyond him as to be- 
lieve that Arisinplianes wrote from a most intimate acquaintaiico 
with the object t/f his attack, and selected liim as one whose 
principles he couscieiuiously believed would prove preeminent- 
ly dangerous. Nor, when we find Mr Mitchell asserting that 
\n this Platonic Socrates, a picture, as w^e must remind our 
readers, drawn more than tv/enty years after tiic date of the 
, Clouds, there are even worse and aggravathig * circumstances, 
■ i iiq p). ^ressed by the comic bard, than those" he has introduced, 
can we conceive by what confusion of judgment he suppo'^es 

Prelim. Discourse, p. xcvii. H Tn Pi:ot. 

§ See the whole of the dialogue called Cratylus. 

* * Prelim. Discourse, p. cxxxvii. 

800 Mitchell’f Arisii^ketMS. Kon 


that an alteration took place in the interval, — that tbe Socra- 
tes of Aristophanes was not the Socrates of later clays, or 
the reproof of the poet had changed the pursuits Or aftected^the 
principles of the philosopher. § Such a notion, notwithsland- 
ing the extravagant compliment to ourselves with which it is 
linked, || we must pronounce most palpably absurd. The soul 
of Socrates, of that Socrates 

~vvho scorn’d to fear or fiy, 

Wlio liv’d and died, as none can live or die — 
w^as not moulded of such a malleable tcnr,)er ; nor is it to be 
jnuiglncfl tiiat any castigation from the huinl ol’ a Comedian, 
a cla>s ol' writers held in utter contempt by all the pinlosophei*s, 
could IiJive wo]-ked so powerful an effect. 

\Vc arc convinced tliat whoever will take the pains lo com- 
pare these two blight sketches of the Sophists and of Socrates 
which we liave abstracted, chiefly from the pregnant ]>ages of 
Mr Mitchell, will be struck with points of siniihirhy that, pro- 
perly urged home, might have staggered even Plato, or Xeno- 
})hon himself, and that might b(i exhibited in a still stronger 
light, had wc lime or space for a more minute detail. Even 
fj om the ‘golden * Memorabilia, in which Mr M. will allow but 
a few blots to be discoverable, and from that ‘ immortal ’ Tri- 
logy ‘ which has been cnibalincd by the tears of all ages, ' — we 
should not dcspaii-, how^cver invidious the task, of extracting 
quite enough to support our view of the subject. In the very 
lirst book of the former wc find the charge of receiving pay for 
philosophical instructions, lo which Mr M. excepts as a lalse fea- 
ture in the portrait of the Clouds, * not indei'cl directly fiisteji- 
ed upon iSoerales Jjiiiiself, but strongly countenanced by the 
mode of remuneration to which lie would recommend tbe phi- 
losopher to trust, f It is no impolitic dibinlcrotedness that 
leaves rccompenee to gratitude : and even l^i’otagorab would 
sfimctinies rather appeal for his reward to the leelings of his 
scholars, than to previous stipulation, f A liir (hirkcr imputu- 
ti('a upon the Soerntic code of morals, — for we shut our cars as 
wc must our licarts against any impeachment of the sage's in- 
dividual imrity, — is only too well w^arraiitcd by the disgusting., 
c'oolncss with w’hich, in the same book, he is made to argue on ^ 
the subject of a crime, that all ages and all religions have 
ctmeurred in branding as the most horrible of treasons ^ 

§ Prelim. Discourse, p. cxxxviii. I1 Ibid. p. cxxxlx., 

* Ibid. p. cxXxiv. \ 

f Xcn. Mem. Lib. I. c. ii. } 7. 

I Plato ill Prulagora. 

VI 820 . 

Mitcheir.? Arisiojjhaites. SQJ 

gainst nature, § We sliuclder at the bare idea of pressing a 
point like this: but the Trilogy of l^lato, in some respects is 
not nn)re iiiifiregnable. The Apologia, which stands first in 
jrhal coUectiori, notwithstanding its powerful and toucliing rhe- 
toric, is debased by a vein oi' ciuilibling tliat blends but ill 
v/itlj the fiimpte and manly eloquence Vvlib which it closes. So- 
crates miisi have known that th'- cbarqos expressrd by his ;'c- 
cusers were mere pretexts; ll‘at Jii"- poillicul semiinents were 
the real cause fin* which lie was prosecuted ; mid why did he 
not boldly force his assiiilant'? to droj) the mask ? why stva'iu liis 
ingenuity to repel allega.tions which, idler all, he could in>t 
wlioHy or implicitly deny? — vViiy does he figlit so shy of the 
eliarge concerning religion, ets it is Ivor did in the indivimcni^ if 
he flKiught it worili while to an.’^wer it iil all ? Why shift iiiis 
ground by aid ui' liis sopliisilcal int«Togatlves, or fly Ibr si.el- 
ter lo ilial paltiy ]d:iy upon the dt fniition of his IJiemon, wliieli 
might do well emuigb Ihr Aristotle to (jiiote among his speci- 

§ Xeii. Mem. Lib. I. c. iii. — Mr Mitchell has with good taste avoid- 
ed this topic. If any thing could provoke us to dilate upon so od’oi.* 
a theme, it would he to iincl Diy den extolling Socrates Ibr such dan - 
gerous reasonings as the following ; (see Dry den's Life of Mjgil, 
p. 67») ‘ There is hut one Eternal, Inunntahle, Uniform bcinOj ; in 

^ contemplation of our sovereign haj^pinc^s const. -t's: and 

* therefore a trim io*. cr considers beauty and proportion as so ma- 

* nv steps and iU‘gn:os, by vvhicli he may ascend from the parti- 
' cular to the geiund, from all lliat is lovely of feature, or regular 

* in proportion, or charming in sound, to the general founruiu of a!l 

* perfection. Ar.d if you are so much transported with the sight of 

* beautiful persons, as to wislt neither to cat or drink, hut pass your 

* whole life in their conversation; to what coUuy would it lai^^e you 

* to behold fho original beauty, not tilled up nith iksh uikI blood, 
‘ or varnished with a fading mixture of colouis, and the reU of mor- 
' tal trifles and tholeri^ s, f)ut separate, unmixtd, uniform, and di- 

/ vine, ’ <^'C. — The man who could choose so luscious a basi^ for his 
speculations, oi whom the presence of ‘ the beautiful Ag.ithoni, ' 
or the ‘ intcresliug Auti>iy<us’ v/as neccsi?ary, before he could work 
and pamper up hih reveries to the «’/]« «t‘rc— tlio.‘ orioi/wl 
‘ ip' and ^Joiinlain of all -ic'. f diimd liave had too presump- 
tmjMs a contideuce in his own strength, or too distlaiaful a contempt 
for the opinion of the wuHd. 

Dryclen declares himstli' ind'*]>ied^^t0 Mr Walsh for this Life of 
Virgil, but it bears strong mark.'* of his revision, and at any iiitc tiie 
’^pipions expreijsod in it luo bet fonn undethi* sanction. 

jl02 yi\i^&3i*s 'Arist€^ianes, , ' 

rnons of nuliymornntic reasoniu^it, * but can hardly bd con^clcr- 
ed bv us as any thing better than what Shakespeare would have 
called ‘ some quip, some quillet to deceive. ’ f In the Criton, 
which displays the magnanimity of Socrates in the oon-^ 
sj)icuous and affecting manner, we mfty entertain some doubts 
as to the soundness of an argument, that makes' the highest re- 
verence towards the laws, consist in aiding them to acoomplisb 
an act of the most monstrous injustice. But the exquisite beau- 
ty of that suicidal dialogue, as well as its indisputable aUenation 
of Sfl/i may be allowed to shield H from a cavil. The Phae- 
don, however — splendid, overpowering as it is — lies a little 
more ojien to remark. \Vc w'ould not deny the fanciful grace, 
the spell-like enchantment of its ultramundane speculations; 
still less would we militate against the soul-piercing pathos of 
its final scenes, though that pathos be much impaii*ed by the 
studied suppression of nil naturartenderncss, and the artful am- 
biguity of tlie expiring sneer, which give too much the air of 
dying, as in many points the philosopher had lived, lor 
But amid all the tediousness of the metapliysical subtleties 
that Socrates brings forvrard in this dialogue for proving the 
soul’s immortality, there is that vile doctrine (/f referring all 
abstract knowledge to the memory of a previous existence, 
more futile than the theory of innate ideas overturned by 
Locke, and as dangerous, wlieii viewed in connexion witl» 
the other Socratic doctrine of ascribing all virtue to know^- 
ledge, as any of the moral heresies maintained by the So- 
phists, — which ’would confound the whole distinctions between 
probity and vice, destroy the real merit of every ^ecies of 
cKcellcncc?, and make the moral world a mere realm of anar- 
chy for chance to riot in uncontrouled. It is vain to ijtgo a- 
gainst the mischief of doctrines like this, an example of inno- 
cence, however sj>oilcs^, or a reach of thought, however sub- 
lime. Eudoxus himself, wdiile he would haix* had all mankiud 
devote themselves to pleasure as the highest good, was a model 
of temperance and self-denial. J The ethics of Socrates con-, 
tain maxims as pure as any that Christianity unfolds, and po- 
litical reflections that might instruct even the absolute ^ubisdxm of 

Vide Ari^toU Rhetor. Lib. II. c. xxiv. 

t Mr Mitchell has noticed the gross contradiction between 
part of the Apologia and the language of the Phadon on the subject 
of physical pursuits. He might have added the testimony of Dio- 
genes Laertius to prove Socrates had been most violently rd- 
dieted to those studies. 

J Aristot. Ethic. Lib. X. c. iL 



some statesmen at the present day. * They who are treated 

* with violence^ huite^ as though they were bereft of a right : 

* they who are eoncffioted by persuasion, love, as though they 

* woce gratified with a favour! tkei'efare it is not the part of 
* ^ those who study prudence, to coerce by violence, but of those 

* who have^ mere force without judgment to guide it, ’ f — is a 
remark, to which certain rulers wc could mention might attend 
with advantage. But all this forms no excuse or palli aion for 
« jihilosophy which weaker heads or more depraved hearts 
^Uld S0 easily wreM to the moat pernicious purposes. It was 
n weapon that might be wielded to destroy as well as to delend : 
a sort of Lesbiwii i| that might be made to acctminiodate itself 
to any shape, or be twisted into any tortuosity. We can hardly 
think it a suiiicient compensation Ibr such an evil, to find the 
folly of the bean^dection exposed in one treatise If of the So- 
cratic school, or ‘ the originally happy* state of man, ^ * the de- 
luge, ’ or ‘the doctrine of freewill,* dajkly suggested in an- 
other. t But our readers may think it full ,time lor us to have 
done with this subject ; and as we draw near the close of Mr 
Mitchell’s dissertation, we feel half-infected by his softness. It 
is impossible to read the few last pages of his Essay, without 
losing every other feeling in admiration of' their eloquent beau- 
ty. His,/er/c certainly does not lie in syllogism: But to his 
purity of taste, and his liveliness of manner; the warmth of 
his classical devotions, and the graces of the language in which 
he clothes them ; we are glad to bear most cordial testimony ; 
and it makes us pass, with every kindly inclination, to examine 
the translations that constitute the remainder of his work. 

Yet we must bc^in with a protest against the plan upon 
which these translations are executed. " It is really not fair 
in Mr M. to garble bis poetry with so much prose : to give 
us Aristophanes in stripes^ like the cuts and slashes of a Spa- 
nish doublet. We can hardly pretend to fathom his reason 
for doing so. It cannot be laziness surely, with such an unli- 
mited command ot language and versification as he seems to 
possess* It cannot be a minci^ delicacy, that wishes to pass 
sicco pede over all that might ofmnd prudish ears, — for many of 
die passages omitted in the translation are purer than some that 

f Xen. Mem. Lib. I. c. ii. f 1^. 

II Vid. Aristot. Ethic. Lib. V. c. x. 
% Xen. Mem. Lib. 1. c. ii. § 9. 
t Vide Platonem do Legibiuu 
toi. XXXIT. KO. 69. U 

Mitch^-s Arhtoj^iamS^ 

find a place. Besides we suppose that Mr M« does not Sdean 
to publish a Family Aristophanes, or pretend to a more sejueam- 
ish stomach than Madame Dacier, who has managed to let us 
have her translations served up •mhole^ an instance of somev^eso- 
lution as well as ingenuity in that remarkable lady. We shall 
be sincerely sorry to have our favourites the CUAids and tfie 
Birds tlius mangled ; nor Is it just in Mr M. towards his au- 
thor, to stand behind the scenes, like Master Peter in Don 
Quixote, and bring in bis characters with a fl<>iji‘isli of the rhe- 
torical tnimpot, or keej) tlieni offi merely as it suHs his con- 
venience. Mr M. must know the old Greek proverb, 

ii ftifi ipxyeiv^ ‘ either Cat the whole snail, or let it quite a- 
Jone, ’ — and that is the sort of treat his readers will expect of 
him. Of the Acharnians, a play of about 1200 lines altogether, 
his version omits neiirJy 500, — not very far from the half. The 
1400 lines of the Knights, are despoiled of upwards of 400. 
Whether the passages left untranslated be of much consequence 
or not, we object to the plan in lofo. The merely English reader 
may imagine himself cheated of something valuable, — and 
think that he does not get all he was promised for his money ; 
wliile the scholar will certainly grumbJe to see emitted any op- 
portunity for spirited interpretation or useful remark. 

A f)ersori with a rage Ibi’ clafisification niigljt arrange the re- 
maining plays of Aribtophanes under the three heads of Critical, 
which would comprclicnd the/*/Y>^.9, — Philosophical, which would 
contain the Clouds^ — and Political, which might be made to em- 
brace all the rest. But these diflercnt qualities are so interwov- 
en in the tissue of each individual piece, that it would be silly 
to lay much stress upon any such arrangement. The two plays 
which Mr M. has given us in the present volume, may be con- 
sidered as two of the most exclusively political, — each having a 
specific object of policy in view, that is kept sight of through- 
out. The Acharjiiujis, which stands first, is likewise the ear- 
liest of its autlior's productions, that has come down to us en- 
tire. The plot nsay be lold in a very few words. 

^ Dicicopolis, a citizen of Athcn«>, is irritated at the cootinuance 
of the Peloponnesian war, that calamitous event, which furnished 
Aristophanes with so many topics of complaint, and which ended in 
the ruin of his native country. Dicacopolis endeavours to persuade 
Ins countrymen to make a peace with Lacedemon. — his efforts faih 
irritated at their obstinacy, the worthy rustic resolves to make a s^ 
gj^-ate peace fetr himself and family, and despatches one Aniphitheua 
to Sparta for the purjiosc. We are not to look for probability in 
these Grecian farces : or, rather, it is in an utter contempt for pre^^ 
bability, and an entire departure from all the ordinary prosaic occur- 



Mitclieir^ Arhiophtmit. 

renees Df c<mimon ]ife> that the principal * entertainment of these 
wild sallies of humoar consists. This journey of one or two hundred 
miles is accordingly accomplished in the course of a lew minutes, f 
Thoyi-est of the play consists in a succession of panegyrics upon the 
' blessings which this treaty brings to Dicieopolib — (among which the 
additions to^his culinary enjoyments are not forgotten^ in a country 
wh^re cookery is ranked by one of its poets among the liberal arts) ; 
and a series of satires upon the young statesmen of the day, who 
were impatient for the continuance of the war, and who, it should 
seem, had as yet shown nothing but dial spirit of foppery, haughti- 
ness, and vain-gloriness, which often precedes the development of 
powerful and active minds : such were Alcibiades and Lamacluts, 
upon the latter of whom the dramatist's lash falls very heavily. ’ 

Thus far Mr Mitchell. Tliough the Greek argument clia- 
racterizes this play as ‘ exceeding- well con- 

cocted ; * and though there is no piece of Aristophanes more 
rich in that prcgniiiit, unlooked-mr, roiind-thc’-cormer sort of 
personal satire he so much excelled in, we cannot regard it, in 
comparison with his other compositions, as so interesting as any 
of them. Spite of the chronological propriety of beginning with 
it, we think a translator, conscious of the force of first impres- 
sions, might have hesitated as to putting it foremost. The best 
scenes arc the famous interview between Diemopolis and Euri- 
pides, whom Aristophanes is delighted to bring as soon as pos- 
sible into ridicule', — a sccfie uncommonly brisk in the original, 
but rather tame and vaj)id in Mr M.’s transfusion of it, — and 
those farcical and broadly-liurnoroiis scenes witli the Megaren- 
sian fUid his daughters, tlie Bceotian and the little sycophant, 
which Mr M. lias not translated at all, at least has only given 
hashed up w'ith his descriptive prose. 

Mr M. is not happy in the dialogue of this drama. He has 
not caught the Aristophanic brevity and roughness. It is alto- 

f ether too much wire-drawn, and too much ijiflated, to please us. 

ic says a good deal that Aristophanes does not say, and be- 
stows a meretricious glare and glossiness upon a good deal that 
he does. He gives us the cold glitter of an icicle, for the hear- 
ty though less polished glow of his author’s phraseology. We 

* Not the principal surely. Mr M. should have added, as far as 
^ the plot is concernedm 

f It is much more violent in Shakespeare to whisk his characters 
from Italy to England and buck again, as he has done in Cymbe- 
line : or to slide over sixteen years between two acts, 4^ in the Win- 
ter’s Tale. 

S0$ Wxidtt^s 

w Mild not be thought unfearanable in bYiir demanSf^. ’, Wa" cte 
Dot want Mr M. to rival the inimitably tbthpressive powers 
o!’ the Greek tongue. It woald be as as tfi'e' attempt of 
Barren Holiday, in his tfetirion of* Juvenal, to make every^ibe 
of his comprehend the setise of one of the Original,— forgetting 
tliMt he wrote under the disadvantage of four sytlVoles less lb 
cacli verse. But we need not have such a word, for instancef 
as (Hn. 3.) spun out into * whole battalions, In 

num'-er-. ninnlji riess, like Ocean’s waves;’ — ^nor such a phrase 
as aivff&nv (lin. 9.) rendered by * t’other trouble, A trou- 

‘ ble that might give the ti’agic Muse Fit theme and matter, * — 
which, by the by, is by much the least comic meaning that the 
wohLs can be in any way made to bear. Neither can we see 
why Mr Mitchell should not have imitated better the collocjuial 
easts half-coarse, half-degag6, that runs through the lambics 
oi Arisionhanes. Why ^loulcl a homely phrase like *S orev 
^v^ofixt (lin. i r.)? become in his dainty transformation ‘ Since 
first I took to living cleanly. And making my ablutions, ’ when 
the Poet meant it lor nothing more than a rude expression for 
the inlancy of life ? We believe it is Fielding that recommends 
a play or two of Johnson’s, (who was a diligent student though 
no imitator of Aristophanes), to be taken as a kind of prcpara« 
live before one commences the perusal of this Author, lest, as 
he figuratively says, the simplicity of his style, for want of being 
sweetened with modern quaintness, may, like old wine after 
sugar-plums, appear insipid, and without any flavour, to palates- 
that have been vitiated with the common theatrical diet. ‘ Read 
not to believe and take for granted,’ is one advice of Lord Ba- 
con’s. * We fear that Mr Mitchell has given more authority 
over himself than it deserved to this recommendation of ar 
writer who failed in his own attempted version of a Greek 
comedy. ¥or per7isal he has understood iranslatioUf and has 
devoted too much time to working in the mines of our early 
dramatists, instead of undergoing the greater trouble it would 
have cost him to fijrm a style of his own more suited to the exi- 
gency. Johnson, and Beaumont and Fletcher, with all their 
nigh and undisputed merit in their own line, are the worst pos- 
sible mt>dcls for a translation of Aristophanes. Fielding pro- 
bably meant to do nothing more than round a period ; But he 
l)as done considerably mischief to Mr M/s translations of dia^ .. 

* * Dubitarc in singulis non est inuiiltN ’ says Thomas Langsehnei- 
derius to tlie most scientific Ortuinus Gratius— FpisU Obscurorux#^ 
Virorum, p. 1. ed. Franc. 


logue* Hifi cbomsees ore good, almost without exception ; for 
in them he is treadii^ a path of hi$ own, without any blundei'- 
ing finger-posts to mislfaa him. 

At line 79 (pf the , original) we think Brunck, and Mr M. 
^ after nim, have fallen into a mii^takc : h iyurrxt 

T6VS «iiMwT#i fayftv n kcu 

— ‘ For these barbarians, 

The rogues ! allow no manhood but to those 
Who show a vigour at their meals, and drink 
A hogshead at a draught ’ — 

says the ambassador. ^ Then foljlows the remark of Dicoeopolis, 
isf ^ecizaf^ecs rt tuu tutrctTvytmf which Mr M. according to 
Brunck’s Latin, and in his own amplifying manner, renders 

— ^ Say you ? we hold 

Tlioughts quite diverse, and think such fellows are 
The stuff that pimps and profligates are made of. ' 

<Dt«&oi lolis means to be much more sarcastic, ‘ The barbari- 
‘ ans think those alone worth naming Mt w, that can gorge and 
< swill the mightiest quantities, * says the envoy, — ‘ And we — 

‘ your debauchees and profligates, ^—observes the citizen : that 
is surely, those arc the persons we think Men, a stroke of satire 
quite Aristophanic. At line 140 we have another crr(»r. ©s«- 
is translated ^ our frosty bard, Tlieognis, Was w rit- 
ingfor the prize.' The meaning is, ‘ one of his plays was 
being acted.' At lin^ 174 had better have been ren- 
dered salmagundy than sallad^ It was a dish precisely answer- 
ing to Morgan’s preparation in the cock-pit, ^ At line 279, « ^ 
h w x^tfti^Teu is rendered ‘ What serve shields un- 

less for fuel ? '-^Dicaeopolis only intends to signify among the 
blessings of peace, that (he shield may be now hung up to get 
smoked in the chimney. But we are tired, as our readers must* 
be, of this minuteness of remark. All we w ant is to impress 
upon MrM. that he had better take more pains, especially with 
the dialogue. He seems to have imagined that tlie featui es of 
his original could be best copied in a hurry. (Preface, p. i.) 
But he should recollect, that a light hand is not necessarily a 
careless one. It is to Mhe patient touches of unwearied art’ 
that we owe the truest copies of nature. Simplicity of style is 
always the result of labour ; and simplicity should never be ibr- 
gotten in a translation of Aristophanes. 

We are glad to get Mr M. to a chorus. He has imitated 
with great success both the trochaic and anapaestic measures of 

^ * Roderick JRandom* 

508 MitchelPsf 

the Greek. The first appearance of the Chorus in this play is 

very spirited. 

Scene VII. FvHl Chorus in pursuit of Dic<Ex>pOlis^ address 
each other. 

* Doublej double toil and trouble, quicken step and change your plan^ 

Inquisition or petition must arrest the shameless man 

It concerns her pride and honour that our town hih motions know ; 

Wlio has back’d him> or has track’d him, forward let him come and 

SeniuChoruSn Toil and search are in vain, 

He is gone, — fled amain* 

Now shame to my age> 

And to life’s parting stage. 

Other tale, it had been, 

When my years were yet green, 

And my youth in her pride 
Follow’d fast at the side 
OF Phayllus the racer ! 

A fleet-goinii pacer, 

Though coals a full sack 
Press’d hard at my back. 

Then had not tliib maker 
Of peace, and a breaker 
With his best friends, I ween, 

Long space put between 
His country’s undoer 
And me his pursuer, 

Nor should we thus part 
For a leap and a start. 

But now my leg with age is heavy, and in vengeance for my sins, 

* Lacratides and all his frost sure winter in these stiffen’d shins. 

So the rogue both scapes and flouts me 

SemuChofus. Forward, forward, friend, ’twere shame, 

Should wc, iho’ slow, the search Forego, and the varlet vict'ry claim. * 

The scene luiwecii Diemopolis and the Chorus is still better: 

we wish It had been given entire. 

Die. ‘ Explanation — svipplication — 

Chnr. Both are preaching to the wind. 

Die. Warm petition and submission — 

r/a» , Seas are deaf and rocks are blind. 

Die. Bended knees and hands u))iifted — 

Chor. We have eyes and cannot see. 

* I.acratidos was a former arclion of Athens, during whose ma- 
gistracy there happened a prodigious fall of snow. 

Mitch^lV Aristophanes. SOS 

Die. Falling tcfir ppyfjr submissive — 

CAor. We have cars, but not for thee. 

Die. Hety:, O hear nie ! 

' C/ior. ril not bear thcc — death must guerdon deeds so bold. 

Die. {enraged.) Blow for blow then Jet us bandy, damn’d be he 
that first cries hold. 

On a wight your vengeance falls not — unprovided— unprepared — 

With the nearest and the dearest of your friends must it be shared. 

Chor. (fo his companions.) Sons and wardsmen of Acharna?, whence 
this threat of retribution ? 

Speak,— explain, — ^my wildered brain seeks in vain for a solution. 

Hath he bairn of any present, hath ite prisoner iious’d within ? 

Whence hath he such boldness gather’d ? 

Die. {exhibiting something in his hand.) Now let Fate her w^ork begin: 

Wo have here that in the drama shall enact a ibreinost part — 

Surest test to prove who best loves his craft and trade at heart. 

Omt. All is over — darkness cover me and mine within the grave ! 

Die.) O let prayer and humble tear tliis ray toy, my darling 
save ! 

Explanation — supplication— 

Die. Both are preaching to tlie wdnd. 

Chor. Warm petition and submission — 

Die. Seas are deaf and rocks arc blind. ’ 

Wo have no room for further extracts from this pl.‘’y- W o 
would only allude to the famous defence of Dicaeopolis, begin- 
ning in the original at line 497, (which Mr M. has translated 
with considerable spirit), in order to notice a singular mistake 
of a most ingenious and lamented author, the late Member for 
Banbury. — Mr Dotiglas refers the animated picture of bustling 
preparation so wtII described in the concluding lines of the 
speech to the fltting-oiit of the Sicilian expedition. % As the 
Acliarniavs was written in the sixth year of tlic Peloponnesian 
war, and the armament against Syracuse was not sent out till 
the seventeenth, it is needless to point out that this is an er- 
roneous notion. Our Edinburgh readers will perhaps forgive 
us too for hinting at an Athenian custom expressed in line 617, 
which w^ill be very intelligible to those who remember how rife 
tlie cry of Garden realty || once was in tlie streets ol' our beau- 
tiful metropolis, and what it portended. Edinburgh has been 
called the modern Athens: — but we trust that no one will sup- 
pose this to be the strongest point of similitude. 

J Douglas on the Modern Greeks, p. 164. 

H The warning at Athens was not so specifically worded 

MTretrm EEISTSl ftXoi. 

Sl^ Mhdbde:^ 

It must be evident by this time to our readeijs, that the An**- . 
dent Comedy rested none of its claims to admiration upon va- 
riety of incident or intricacy of plot. The plays of Aristo- 
phanes, with the highest finish of execution, display the utmost 
baldness of design. We cannot indeed agree with Lord Shaftes- " 
bury — (who seems to follow Aristotle in assigning a great 
preeminence to the Grecian Tragedy)— in thinking that the 
truth of characters, the beauty ol order, and the imitation of 
nature, were wholly unknown to the comedians; to Vi^hom 
he yet assigns a perfection in style and iangm^, and an a- 
mazing fertility in all the turns and diversities of humour. * 
We think, on the contrary, the imitation of nature exact; the 
truth of character uniformly preserved ; and the beauty of order 
maintained, — as far as order can be beautiful that is entirely 
simple, that never diverges from straight lines, nor deviates into 
^ tlie winding lineaments of grace.* rhe character of D,;*inus 
in the very play we are now going to examine, which, as pro- 
fessing to exlribit an exact portrait of a wdiole people with all 
their peculiarities, required great powers for accurate observa- 
tion and faithful copying, is, says Mr Mitchell, ‘ an immortal 

• proof of rich invention, ducriminaiion^ ami acuteness. * ♦ Even 

• as a drama, * he elsewhere observes, ‘ the Knights has always 

• held a very high rank, and not undeservedly. * But the Gi^e- 

ciaii Comedies though true in the delineation of character, and 
of consequence in those delineations strict in tlieir fidelity to 
nature, disdained the additional embellishment of interesting 
action. They have abundance of jokes pleasafitries 

by surprise, but few incidents of the same description. Any 
simple fiction served as a vehicle for Satire, Politics, Criti** 
cism, and Poetry, the prime ingredients in the intellectual 
repast offered by the comic poet to his audience ; and t little 

* Characteristicks, p. 245. We do not precisely see how a writer 
can be perfect in style anti language, which are to be put in tl^ 
mouths of different characters, without keeping to the truth of cha- 
racter : or fertile in all the turns and varieties of humour, without 
imitating nature. — Some critics will have it that the characters of 
Aristophanes are all generic, that is, that each is the embodied like- 
ness of a tribe or genus, the personification of an abstract idea, not 

of a real individual.— In' this way, every comic or tragic character 
may be called the representative of a genus, at least as long as there 
shall be points of resehiblancc nnioiig mankind,— as Jong as each in- 
dividual does nnt stand per se, distinct, isolated, without model and 
witliont copy. Is not Socrates an individual portrait ? are not Cleon^ ^ 
fiuripides (in the Frogs) strong individual portraits ? 


Mtidurill’t AristophmHn 911 

biiffiknier V up with them^ made the treat 

be exquisitely reliahed by every class of Athenians* The plan 
of the Knights is even more straight*forward and unadorned 

• than that of the Achaarnians ; but it is a play of a much higher 
"^rder in every other point. * The professed object, ' says Mr 

Mitchell* ‘ of this, singular composition is the overthrow of that 
powerful demagogue, whom the author had professed in his Acliar* 
nians ( kct II*) that it was his intention at some future day to cut 
into shoedeather ; and ^ his assistants on, the occasion arc the very 
» persons, for whose service the exploit was to take place, — the rich 
proprietors, who ansoi^ the Atlicnians constituted the class of Horse- 
men or Knights. For this purpose Athens is here represented as a 
house : Detnus (a personification of the whole Athenian people) is 
the master of it; Nicias knd Demosthenes (the General not the Ora- 
tor), names too familiar to the reader of history to need explanation^ 
are his slaves ; and Cleon is his confidential servant and slave-driver. 
\ .32M^velling disposition of the Athenians could not have been pre- 
sented with a more agreeable picture* If the dramatis persona! are 
few, the plot of the piece is still more meagre ; it consists merely of 
a series ot humiliating pictures of Cleon, and a succession of proofs 
to Demus, that this favourite servant is wholly unworthy of the trust 
and confidence reposed in him* The manners are strictly confined 
to Athens, and might almost be thou^t to belong to a people who 
imagined with the Indian, that his own little valley comprehended the 
whole world ; and that tlie sun rose on one side of it, only to set a-' 
gain on the other. ' 

Mr Mitchell justly ascribes great value to this comedy ^ as 
^ an historical document, giving a strong, full, and faithful pic- 

• ture of the most singular people that ever existed. * Yet w'e 
cannot but observe that he dwells, both in bis argument and 
notes, with too much satislaction upon the darker shades of the 

{ >ortrait* He seems to lose all sight of modfiration, and abso- 
utely run riot in his unsparing abuse of republicanism and po- 

E ular orators. We would just beg leave to accompany him in 
is triumph, like the slave of the Homan chariot, and whisper 
in his car ^ THOU aKo art u man ; — with all your national par- 
* tiality you must conless that Demus and yonr own John Bull 
* have somewhat more than an exterior resemblance. ^ Demiis 
indeed has no wife to read liim lectures ‘ on the indispensable 
* duty of cuckoldoni, * but he \m\< the knavish servant, the false 
ally, the traitorous friend, and all the wa;ntonness of humour, 
wildness of caprice, and dcpiii of gullibility, that distinguish the 
famous representative of the Knglibh national character. Wc 
cannot be supposed to cnlevtciin mud) affection fpr a people 
^ho could suffer Miiii‘»des to die .bi prifeoDjj and.ThemistocIes 
. in exile ; but aversion may be pushed to the limits of injustice* 



How are we to expect any candottr from a writer wlio 
his work by making the Catchstreet Conspiracy * a grave, and 
doubtless in his opinion a powerful, argument, for taking that 
exclusive view of politics whieh he at the same time aclbiow- 
ledges should be carefully avoided : f who eulogizes Daiite for^ 
his very doubtful equity, to say no worse of it, in., condemning 
Brutus and Cassius, with Judas Iscariot betwixt them, to a 
place which Julius Cmsar or Augustus had a much better claim 
to occupy : t and who can express his cordial concurrence with 
that most violent and groundless dogma of Xenophon, ^ that 
. ‘ any one, not immediately in the rank of the people, who pro 

* fers living in a dcmocratical rather than in an oligarchical 

* government, must be a villain by anticipation, and acts upon 
‘ the consciousness, that it is easier ,to be a bad man and to 
‘ escape detection in a state where the government is in the 

* hands of the many, than it is in a state where the go-fern- 

* ment is in the hands of the few?* ]| What will Mr MitSleil" 
say to Montaigne, whose honest opinion ‘ that a man ought to 

* be contented with that form of government, and tl)ose funda- 

* mental constitutions of it, which lie received from his ances- 

* tors, and under which himself was born, * gives him a right 
to be heard on this question, — ^and who nevertlieless freely con- 
fesses, that if he could have chosen kis place of birth, it should 
have her*!! under the republic of Venice^— a government ap- 
proaching much nearer to the democracy of Athens, than to 
the odious oligarchy, or monarchy, or whatever else we must 
term it, of Xenophon’s favourite Laccda»mon? Mitford ap- 
pears to be the groat master of political wisdom, whom Mr 
Mitchell has chosen to folh>w: and our readers must be pretty 
generally aware of what respect is due to the prciudices of an 
histori uj who mahes heroes of the cold-blooded Darius, the 
cruel Xerxts, and almost of the frantir Cambyses, while he can 
bestow an claboidte frigidity upon his account of Marathon, 
and toil to deepen every stain upon the patriotic virtues of De- 
mosthenes. W'c say this without meaning in the least to de- 
tract from the praises he deserves for the great care and atten- 
tion ho has cmp!<'ycd in the compilation ol his history; but the 
student will be bitterly disappointed who expects to find it rich 
cither in impartial views or liberal opinions. 

* Preface, p. xii. + Ibid, 

J The ffvrat Deiil^e mouth , — as Dryden calls it ; see the Inferpo, 
Canto XXXIV* and MitdttsU’s Preface, p. xiil. 

II Mr Mitcliell seems so fond of this sentiment that he quotes 
twice ; see his Prelim. Discouisc, p. cxliii. and Translation, p. 293* 

I82d« WtdiAfi Arist^han^;, SIS 

Without, however, being hurried away in our feelings by any 
glosses or remarks of coninientator or translator, we must con- 
sider the Knights an everlasting inoimment of the power, pa- 
triotism, and skill of Aristoplianes. ‘ Cleon appears to have 
T5een in his imagination as the centre of a circle, into which all that 
society exhibit^ of the mean and tlie ridiculous, all that folly contains 
of the weak and the imbecile, and all that vice displays of the odi- 
ous and disgusting, was, as a matter of course, to" be drawn, * 
That good humour, which, in spite of the opposite opinion general- 
ly entertained of him, formed, 1 think, a conspicuous }>art of the 
cliaracter of Aristophanes, displays itself here but rarely -he had 
set his all upon a cast, and tlve danger he was running evidently sits 
heavy upon his mind. His Chorus, who are generally to his plays 
what the female faces have been observed to be to tlie pieces of Ho- 
garth, a means of keeping tlie acrimonious feelings within the limits 
of Icjytimately pleasureable sensation, here assume a ferocity of cha- 
rAf-top-the poet has written their parts with gall, and armed their 
Ihands with a dagger. The German critics, whose feelings are as 
correct as their learning is profound, have observed the difference 
between the Knights of Aristophanes and his other plays. It is a 
struggle for life and death, says Wieland : it is a true dramatic phi- 
lippic, says Schlegel. ’ 

^ In attacking Cleon so continually upon the point where he seemed 
least assailable, viz, the affair at Pylus, the poet has shown that deep 
knowledge of the people collectively, which forms the most consi- 
derable feature in his literary character. ^ ‘ It was politic to nau- 

seate the audience with a continual recitation of the only event upoxL 
which any real notion of his capacity could be grounded. The pea- 
sant who signed the vote for the banishment of Aristeides, had no 
other reason for it but that he was tired of hearing him continually 
styled the Just. ' 

Mr Mitchell has risen with his author. The translation of 
the Knights is much superior to that of the other play. Even 
the lambic dialogue, though still generally heavy, is very brisk 
in one or two passiiges. VVe shall give a specimen or twro. The 
following is from Scene I. in which Nicias and Demosthenes, 
habited as slaves, arc debating on some means of overreaching 
Cleon. Demosihciie.s calls for a flask of wine to blinnilate his 
ingenuity : 

Nkn * A flask ! thy soul is ever in thy cups ; 

What thoughts can habit in a toper s brain ? 

* This is representing the character of Cleon in this play as too 
ideal, too generic. The fact is, that Cleon seems actttdly to have 
Combined in himself, ail the detestable qualities enumerated in tlie . 

MitdidDl’^ Aidepiimet, Kon 

ffem. Harkye, thou trifling, bubbling water^drinkerf 

Who da^est speak treason thus against good liquor! 

Resolve me — speak-^Wbat stirs the wit most ? 

What makes the purse feel heaviest, or gives 
Most life to business Pt—wine I What masters all « 
Disputes ?— a meny cup t What gives the spirits 
Their briskest dow ?~good liquor ! What mosTC sets 
The soul adoat in love and friendly benefits 
A mantling bowl ! — hand me a pitcher then : — 

Quick, qiuck, nay quick! Ill bathe my very mind 
* And soul therein, and then see who can iut 
Upon a trim device. 

fific. A-lack a-day 1 

What will that drunkenness of thine engender I (goes in doors,) 
Dem, Much good, believe me : quick, and Iwing the wine then. 

I’ll lay me down, — let but the generous fumes 
Once mount into my head, and they will gender >j 
Such dainty little schemes— such tit-bit thoughts— ^ 

Such trim devices 1 *— 

The next, from the last scene of the play, gives a spirited 
d^etch of the young political coxcombs of Athens. — Demos is 
recounting to Agoracritus the Sausage-seller, who has suo 
ceeded to his favour in the place of &e degraded Cleon, his 
projected reformations in the state r 
JDem, * 1*11 have no speeches in the Agora 

From those whose chins have not yet budded. 

Agor, Clisthenes 

And Straton then must use despatch, and straight 
Look out another school of oratory. 

J}€m, My meaning ratlier points to those same sparks. 

For ever haunting the perfumer's shops, 

Who sit and chatter to this tune — * Commend me (mimiclnnj^ 
To Phasax — swinge me ! — 'tis a man of parts — 

Vers’d in all school-points most divinely^ — ^none 
Takes firmer hold upon his hearer — split me !— 

And then such art in hammering his sentiments. 

So clear, so powerful to sway the passions ! — 

He'll take them in their highest storm and buffetings, 

And — stap my vitals — ^lay them in a moment. ’ 

Agor, {mimicking) A rape ! a rape ! thou’rt gone, thou’rt lost — thia 
phrase- maker 

Hath ta’en thy very senses — split my wind- pipe ! ' 

We must r^urn to the first Act to give the scene between 
the Knights or Chorus, the Sausage- seller, who is to contend 
against Cleon for the mastery in impudence, and Cleon him- 
■el£ Mr Mitch^l has triitislated it with amazing fire and vi- 

1820* Aristop%<me% D19 

^our. NotihjiM.C 9 l^ Iterbett^ than the burst of doable trochaic%^ 
m which the i^i^hls oomtuence their attack: * 

^ Chouus. 

*JStripe8 and torment* whips and scourges, for the toll-collecting 

Knighthood wounded, troopa confonnded, chastisement and yen** 
geance crave. 

Taxes sinking, tributes ahrioking, mark his appetite for [dunder ; 

At his craw and rav’ning inaw d^es and whirlpools fail for wonder f 
Explanation and evasion— *4Sovert art and close deceit— 

Fraudful funning, force and cunning, who with him in these com* 
pete ? 

He can cheat and eke repeat twenly times his felon feat, 

All before yon blessed sun has quench'd his lamp of glowing heat* 
Then to him — pursue him— striKe, shiver, and hew him ; 

Confound him and pound him, and storm all around him —Ac. 

^ trembles at so furious an assault*^ and calls for aid upon higr 

favourites and abettors, the dicasts of the courts, under a curioua 
combination of ciiaracters. It is a combination which we liadi 
not expected to see imitated by any assembly of the present day s 
but as Claudio says, < Oh ! what men dai*e do ! what men may 
^ do ! what men daily do I not knowing what they do ! ’ f 
CL * Judges^ jtirvmen. and j^leaders^ yem whose soul is in your fee; 
You that in a three- piec'd obol, father, mother, brother see ; 

You, tohose food Fm still providings straining voice through right and 

Mark«and see — Conspiracy drives and bufiets me along ! 

Char, 'Tis with reason — ’tis in season — 'tisasyou yourself have donet 
Thuu fang, thou claw — thou gulph, thou maw I yielding partage fair 
to none. 

Where's the officer at audit but has felt your cursed gripe ? 

Squeez’d and tried with nice discernment, whether yet the wretch be 
Like the men our figs who gather, you are skilful to discern, 

Which is green and which is ripe, and which is just upon the turn. 

Is there one well-purs'd among us, lamb-like in heart and life, 

Link'd and wedded to retirement, hating bus'ness, hating strife ? 
Soon your greedy eye 's upon him — when his mind is least at home,-ia 
Room and place — from farthest Thrace, at your bidding he must come. 
Foot and hand are straight upon him — ^neck and shoulder in your grip. 
To the grouqd anon he’s thrown, and you smite liim on the hip. 

CL (yhxvniftg^J lil from you comes this irrupUeni you for whon^ 
my cares provide, 

To reward old deeds of valour, stone and monument^ pride. 

^ * The want of some English metre similar to the jtfO^baic and ana* 
psstic metres in Greek, formed one great deficiency in all form^ 
translations of tliis poet. Mr M. has entirely supplied this defect, 
t Much Ado about Nothing, Act iv. sc. J« 

Si 6 MkchdVs Aris^onkanes. Vw* 

*Twas my purpose to deliver words and speech to that intent--* 

And for such niy f^ood intentions must 1 thus be tempest*rent ? 

Ckor, Fawning braggart, proud deceiver, yielding likeapliantthong! 
are not old men to cozen and to gull with lying tongue. 

Fraud or force — assault or parry — at all })oints will we pursue thcet^ 

And the course wiiich first exalted, knave, that same^shall now undo 

CL (to the audience.) Town and weal— I make appeal — back and 
breast these monsters feel. 

Chor. Have we wrung a clamour from thee, pest itndruin of our town ? 

■ Haufi. rJamour as he will, 1*11 raise a voice that shall his clamour drown. 

Char- To outreach this knave in speech were a great and glorious 
feat — 

Ilut to pass in face and brass — that were triumph all complete. 

Then might fly to earth and sky notes of victVy paesan’d high ! 

CL (to the aiidieuce.) Allegation— aflirmation — I am here prepar'd 
to make , _ 

That this man, (povii/ 71 ^ to the Saufiopfc^vendcr) shipp'd spars ano^tim- 
ber and — sausages for i^parta’s sake. 

Saus. Head and oath, 1 stake them both, and free before this pre- 
sence say. 

That the Hall a guest most hungry sees in this man (pointing to Cleon) 
ev'ry day ; 

' He walks in with belly empty and with full one goes away, * &c. 

The next interruption of the Chorus is very powerful : 

Chor. * Wretch! without a parallel — 

Son of thunder — child of hell, — 

Creature of one mighty sense, 

Concentrated impudence ! — 

From earth's centre to the^ea, 

Nature stinks of liiat and thee, ' iSrc. 

* But tlioii, (fuming to the !!iaumge’-vr,idtT) whose breeding and 
whose feeding were in those schools and masters, 

From whence proceed all those who breed our present state-dis- 
asters, — 

Unfold thy speech — direct and teach in eloquent oration 

That they are nauglu who'd have us taught a virtuous education. 

Sans. I’hen at a word must first be heard my rival’s estimation. 

CL (eagerhj.) I claim precedence in my speech — nor you my right 
den}^ Sir. 

Satis. Your reason, — plea? — ^mcrc knavery! (proudly) marry and 
wliat am 1, Sir ? 

I stake my fame and this way claim a right to prior speaking. 

C//mVA (gravely.) The reason’s good, well understood ; — if more the 
foe be seeking, 

Be it replied — ^that you’re a knave, and not of new creation, 

But known and tried— on either side — throu*:h all your generation. 

ISfflD. Mitchell’^ Amtophaim, jSJJT 

CL {to Snus.) Dost still op^se ? 

'Fore friends and foes. 

CL • My soul is in commotion s— « 

By Earth ! — 

• ByAiri~ 

CL ^ I vow ! 

Saus, I swear ! 

CL By J upiter ! — 

Saus. By Ocean ! — 

CL O I shall choke — 

Sam. You shall not choke — myself am your prevention. 

Chor. (to Sam.) Forbear, forbear, my friend, nor niai* so useful au 
intention ! 

CL (to Sam.) Discuss — propound your cause — your ground for 
these your words nefarious. 

Saus. My powVs of speech — my art to reach phrase season'd high 
and various — 

Cl. (contempt uotisly.) Your pow’rs of speech ! — ill fare the cause 
beneath your hands e*er falling — 

Batter’d and rent, ’twill soon present a sample of your calling. 

The same disease will fortune you — that meets our eyes not rarely 
Hear — mark — reply, and own that I discuss the matter fairly. 

Sotne petty suit ’gainst strangers gain'd — anon you re set a-crowing ; 
‘.rhe mighty feat becoines forthwith u birtli that’s ever growing. 

])y day, by night, ou foot, on horse, when riding or when walking, — 
Your life a mere aollUnpip — still of this feat you’re talking. 

You fall to drinking water next — on generous w^ine you trample, 
While friends are sore — worn o’er and o’er with specimen and sample. 
And this attain’d, you think you’ve gain’d the palm of oratory — 
Ileav’ii help thee, silly one, you’ve yet to learn another story. ’ 

It may be lair to give an exainulc of Mr M.’s powers in rdi^ 
tiering those ttiuches of poetry which so oileu illuminate the 
pages of Aristophanes. 'J’hc following lines are very pretty : 

C no UAL Hywn. 

‘ Oh thou, whom Patroness we call 
Of this ilic holiest land of all. 

That circling seas admire ; 

The land where Power delights to dwell, 
And War his mightiest feats can tell, 

And Poesy to sweetest swell 
Attunes her voice and lyre ; 

Come, blue-cy'd Maid, and with thee bring 
The goddess of tlie eagle wnng ; 

To help our bold tndcavour ; 

Long have our armies own’d thy aid, 

O Victory, immortal maid; 

Now other deeds befits thee tell 
A holder foe remains to quell ; 

(Jive aid then now or never. * 

Sis Mitdbell*« Aristopkaneii 

A much deepel* spirit breathes in the following which 

is tlie last we can afford rornn for, from the Parabasis. «The 
poet, througli the lips of liis Chm*us, is alluding to the fortunes 
of his precursors in the art : . 

* Could it 'scape observing sight what was Magnes* wretched plight, 
when his hairs and his temples were hoary ; r 
Yet who battled with more zeal or more trophies left to tell 

of his former achievements and glory ? [^[clapping,— 

He came piping, § dancing, tapping,-^g*gnatting and wing- 
frog-besniear’d and with Lydtim grimaces t 
Yet he too had his dale, nor could wit nor merit great 
preserve him, unchang'd, in your graces. 

Youth pass’d brilliantly and bright ^when his head was old and white, 
strange reverse and hard fortune confronted ; 
lYhat boots taste and tact forsooth, if they’ve lost their nicest truth, 
or a wit where the edge has grown blunted! 

Who Cratinus may forget, or the storm of whim and wit ' 
which shook theatres under his guiding ? 

When Panegyric’s song pour’d her flood of praise along, 
who but he on the top wave was riding ? 

Yoe nor rival might him meet ; piane and oak ta'en by the feet 
did him instant and humble prostration ; 

For his step was as the tread of a flood that leaves its bed, 
and his march it was rude desolation. 

Who but he the foremost guest then on gala-day and feast ? 

what strain fell from harp or musicians. 

But “ Doro, Doro sweet, nymj>h with tig-beslipper’d feet*'— 
or— “ Ye verse-smiths and bard-mechanicians. " ' 

Thus in glory was he seen, while his years as yet were green 
, but now that his dotage is on him, 

God help him ! for no eye, of all those who pass him by, 
throws a look of compassion upon him. 

’^Tis a couch, but with the loss of its garnish and its gloss;— 

*lis a harp that hath lout all its cunni* g , — 

*Tis a pipe •where deftest hand may the stops no more command^ 
nor OH its dixyhions be rwiniiig. 

Connus-like, he’s chaplet-crown’d, and he paces round and round 
in a circle which never is ended ; — 

On his head a chaplet hangs, but the curses and the pangs 
of a drought on his lips are suspended* ' 

We would not willingly interrupt the current of strong feeling, 
«o simply and yet so beautifully exfircssed as ir. tfiese latter lines 
especially,— but we must remark, that in the verses printed in 

5 The poet alludes in his peculiar manner to the titles of some 
Ibe dramatic works of Magnes. 

18S0> ’Aristophanes. 3id 

italics, Mr M. has deserted his author to introduce ornament 
of his Qwn, Aristophanes takes his metaphor siipply from 
a couch. ‘ But now, ’ he says, ‘ ye take no pity on him, be- 
.* holding him in his dotage like an aged couch, 

rai rcD ivx. It mvrofi 

refv itx^Tx.6va-t/v*— 

* with Its bosses tumbling off — its straining-cords no longer fixed 

* — its joints wide-gaping/ The turn which Mr M. has given 
to the words may be more beautiful and more poetical, but it is 
not the sense of the original. 

We must now bid Mr Mitchell farewell, with every assurance 
of the pleasure it will give us to meet with him again in the 
course of his entertaining and instructive labours. He professes 
himself no friend to indiscriminate praise, and will not therefore 
be offended by any portion of our animadversions. Let him 
drop a few prejudices, and tlie general tone of his work will be 
more jileasing : let him bestow a little more pains, and its gene* 
rol execution will be more correct. For what we have said in 
commendation, wc think the extracts we have given will fully 
justify us to our classical readers. Wc hail with much satisfac- 
tion the prospect now afforded us of seeing ably and agreeably 
translated into our native language, an author who has hitherto 
had so much fewer readers and admirers than bis merits deserve. 
It will he no slight lionour to Mr Mitchell, if he succeed in 
makii g Aristophanes a more familiar and more popular study 
than he has been ; and in spite of the despairing motto he has 
adopted, we luivc good liopes of his doing so. We rejoice to 
have laboured in a small jmrtion of the same vineyard; and 
shall be glad if our assistaj)cc can in any way contribute to so 
desirable a result. We would recommend a more cheerful in- 
scription for the next volume:—- Aristophanes has long been 
under a sort of cloud, 

But shall anon repair his drooping head, 

• “ And trick his beams, and with new-s|)ari;j:led ore 
Flame in the forehead of the Morning sky I 

^ VOL. ^XXIV. NO. 68^ 



Art. II. ^ 1. JVh'idax^^s History of the City of Dublin* 4*10. 
C'luioll & D.lviC‘S, 

2 . 0/;.vrn\\V //;;/.<? un the State of Irelaficf princ^path (tired ed to 
I/s A^iindliire and Itf/ral l^opith'flnn ; 2}f a Srrii^s (f JjCtterSy 
tvri/teu an a Tour iht oupJi that ('onntry. In 2 Vols. By J. C. 
CuRv.KN, Ks(]. M. P. Loudon* 1 81 S, 

3. Gamhle s Vi eves (f Society hi Ireland. 

^T^iEJCsr. Lire ;d] ih:* ]:i1o publications that treat of Irish interests 
ii) :* :!, — and none of U)em are ofliiNt-rate iin}>» M ince, 
Ml Oainlile’.s 'Fravelsiu Ireland arc of a very ordinarv !. v{*rlp- 
li'.i* — !;>w sc;':u'.^ and law humour making u'p lliu pi iiicinel part 
c/1’ iho n ! 'ti . e. There are readers, however, wltoin it wiil 
aiinee; ui;d the revaiieg nuiske't becomes r;nore and more ex- 
loivdvr, and enil iaccb a greater variety of persons every day* 
]Vir Wiiltelavvh^ 1 lisLcry ol Dublin is a book (d’ great accur uy 
and rcMMicl), lihildy ercditablr to tlie industry, sense. .‘itiJ 

benevolence of it.> auihov. Of the Travels of Mr Cln’istiaa 
( in won, woliardie krujw whal to say. IK* i*' inild nul lioi‘-‘st 
ill lii'* politics — a great enemy to — v jpidi in lii^ levity and 

])leii'-iHiirv, ami indiuieiy loo much inclined to ilecLn;-! upon 
con nnonpl lice to])ics of iinnahty and bcio voicnce. But 
itiC'je drav^ hacks, the b ank Is n<»t i!J v. and i^ay In* ;nl- 
vantageoiisly read in lliose who aio dosiioU' of inlbrnuiiloa 
upon the rn csent Stale of Ireiaii.l, 

So g'M'al, and so i bee:* ihc in! \e|\;;eenf of that t i:n« 
try, dial 'vo verily f ehov. ih • v/w.-’il l/CJ-iucii *.:k> if 

eveiv ibkjg was o.;,*'n se., * e,* e’*' ele. : > rn;.i M'*:* Alfo'iic, 
•duA V. shr/.-'s c w' re v; rn .v » o! t i.wcr, h 

;nin-', ‘ 

ai h’ 1" ” •- v-“ ? 

in iC'' *; i\ ri 

♦ yi'anny end 

Or>,0 ns- 


Cl — * 

1 i ' C ■*■ > 


•- !' th sds 


ajc fn* 

i!.* ’ : 

:• y : : ]\ 

j ■ V * y i >1. C‘ 

^ ' ot l^e 



ii: y :■ » -‘O .a • ^ 


‘ ' ; 1 ' e ; 4 ' ! 

i ':4 re- 


f' 1 a (1 

ion ’ 1 d ■' ^ 

-d H 

t ' 1 . ( « 

Me! it 


fi 1\. m - 

n-e t> h ] i ' ‘^yp" - 

lii-.- i /’ -i; 

u 1.*'“!! tin* very 

l i 

o, ‘ or 

{relaud iio ..3. ] 

1'* t*'* '. \-C 



l -a;, h 

icb hjr\'j i.iai-je. l!/- 

0 ir pt »'iien 


ion, and 


ot 1: voi 

isi acd savji tw • 

nd.i-t * 

' t'hn* 4 . 


I'he gM at uilsfcrtuee oi i nd is, i *. • ■as.'. <d‘ the peo'- 
p!o ii n'c i'''cn up iO'’ a *. .'iuiy L • .c : , . .! of Protest- 
ant.*’, nv ii.ey have 0''c - ■' -b..’. uid hubjetlcd 

to c” TV suocies e| o-eiNcctU! ■ ! a’>'; d 'in? .sii'ibi ings oi 

the Caiholicb have Decu bO Icaddy eU mVe !, in the very streets. 




that it lf 5 almost needless to remind onr readers, that dnriniJfthe 
reigns ofG^^orge L and Cloorge II., the Irish llonntii Catholics 
; were disabled from holding any civil or niilitar}’ ofiice, frenn 
• voting at elections, from admission into corporations, fnnn prac- 
tising law or physic. A younger brotlier, by turning Pro- 
testant, iniglit deprive his elder broiher of his birthright ; by 
the sifme j^rocess, he might force his hitiier, under the name 
of a liberal provision, to yield up to him a port o\' his land- 
ed projierty; and if an eldest son, he iniglit, in the same 
way, reduce his father’s fee-simple to a life estate. A was 

disHbled from purchasing freehold lands~ami even from holding 
long leiscs — and any person might take his Catholic neigli- 
bour’s house by paying five pounds for it. If ihr cidld of a 
Catholic father turned Protestjmt, he was taken inva.y (roin hi;^ 
fatlier and jnit into the hands of a Pmesiant rt^la.t 'ois. No Pa- 
pist could purcliasc a freehold, nr !ea>e ior more tlmii thirty 
ye.irs — or inherit from an intesrate Prote>taiii — nor frfjui an in- 
testate Caiitolic — nor dwell in Lnnerlck or ChiKv.*; — nor liold 
an advovvson, nor buy .an ammity fo> ^>0/. w V'n '^iveii for 

discovering a popish Archbislis'p- 50/. fn* i p ^-fsh Clergynum 
— auvl lOs. for It School inuhter. No tn‘<‘ t) be 

tnisloe for Cnlholics ; no Catholic was allowed to t 'ke ‘eu ro 
than two apprentice's ; lu) P‘n)i^t to Ix' sf'iiei»or, -''r lo 

serve on graml juries, lloisesof Papists mi'^'it ta* or 

tlicmililia; lor wliich militia Pa}fi^t^ were to p ly claulde; and 
to find Protestant fuh^litiUcs. Paphts wore ptoldoited iVorn 
being picscnt at ve-^trles, (.y iioni Iv'/ g higli cr nel*y e<”'n t *- 
ble.s; end, when re^lde^t in teams, they w- ><' erv’ i.t ll-'d t-' iind 
Pp -!<‘st‘inl watebuiou. IVutIsUts end s;k' * i>!e5 ryi.. ; C ’a- 

tholios, were exposed to the penalties ' t’ C U'.ad.xs. 
p'mKlered by privateers d.nring' a \\ ir \\d!! •> v Ih in’lnce, 

^\erc reimbursed by a levy on the C.itlinlie i :h:n/ii. nis 
they iiveil. All P<'|)is!i nrie*-ls celeluutir.g * > O'i iev/es e ait'-ary 
to i2 (leoi'i e ht, e !r»» were to b* har . e b 

d'he gri'i ier rarr f 1* these inea])eci*ie>. a;^ y^'e''ve(!. 
many oi'avrr’v ‘'ious end ('pj)nsisive ne.Une mIiI p i' .*n. P* ?t 
the grand niisfm-uo.e is, that tlie wW.' h t'" i ; 'ne, 

L ‘ws engendered mnaiiis. Tl‘»e Pp t<‘-t n'l ‘.'td <0 ks i*j >;j 
the Catliolie as a degraded beiryg: 'i'he (' 0 **. ’ < do-.s not ,-t 
consider himself upon an rijualiTy with is s ‘ornner lyrin'l 
ta^-kmaster. Tliat roiigicus L»-nr.''d wiiieli re({uired rJ! me fu*..*- 
hfl)?l|ng vigilance of tiie I.e.v i’or its resiraint, has ( 0101 :! in ihe 
Jknv its siip-port; ‘UhI liie spirit wliieh the ^tv f i’^t 
exiii^'jcrated and emoittcre *, continnes io aei I ■'Ug :\\U'V .he 
♦original sibnulas js Muthdrawn. The law whicii preveuted 





Catholics from serving on Grand Juries is repealed ; but Catho«^ 
lies are not called upon Grand Juries in the proportion in which 
they arc entitled, by their rank and fortune. Tlie Duke of 
Bedford did all he could to give them the benefit of those* laws 
which are already passed in their favour. Bui power is seldom 
entrusted in this country to one of the Duke of Bedford’s liber- 
ality; and every thing has fallen back in the hands of his suc- 
cessors into the antient division of the privileged and degraded 
castes. We do not mean to cast any reflexion upon the present 
Secretary for Ireland, whom we believe to be'upon this subject 
a very liberal politician, and on all subjects an nonotnrable and 
excellent man. The Government Under which he serves allows 
him to indulge in a little har^le«s liberality; but it is perfectly 
understood that nothing is intended to be done for the Catho- 
lics; that no loaves and fishes will be lost by indulgence in 
Protestant insolence and tyranny ; and, therefore, among the 
generality' of Irish Protestants, insolence, tjrranny, and exclu- 
sion continue to operate. However eligible the Catholic may 
be, he is not elected ; — ^whatever barriers may be thrown down, 
he does not advance a step. He was first kept out by law ; he 
is now kept out by opinion and habit. They have l>een so long 
in chains, that nobody believes tliey are capable of using their 
hands and feet. 

It is not however the only or the worst misfortune of the Ca- 
tholics, that the relaxations of the law are hitherto of little bene- 
fit to them : the law is not yet sufficiently relaxed. A Catholic, 
as every body knows, cannot be made sheriff; cannot be in 
Parliament; cannot be a director of the Irish Bank; cannot 
fill the great departments of tlie law, the army and the navy ; 
is cut off from all the high objects of human ambition, and 
treated as a marked and degraded person. 

The coniuion admission now is, that the Catholics are to the 
^Protestallts in Ireland as about 4 to I— of wliich Protestants, 
not more than one half' belong to the Church of Ireland. This, 
then, is one of the most striking features in the state of Ireland. 
That the great mass of the population is completely subjugated 
and overawed by an handful of comparatively recent settlers,— 
in whom all the power and patronage of the country is vested, — 
^ho have been reluctantly compelled to desist from still greater 
abuses of authority, — and who look with trembling apprehension 
to the increasing liberality of the Parliament and the country to- 
wards these unfortunate persons, whom they have always 
ed upon as their property and their prey. « 

Whatever evils may result from these proportions betwc^cn 
, the oppressor and the oppressed — to whatever dangers a conn-* 




tiy so situate^ may be considered to be exposed — ^these evils 
. and daMers are ramdly increasing in Ireland. The propor- 
tion of Catholics to J?rotestants is infinitely geater now than it 
^ was thirty years ago, and is becoming more and more favour- 
* able to tne former. By a return made to the Irish House of 
Lords in 1932,' the proportion of Catholics to Protestants was 
not 2 to 1. It is now (as. we have already observed) 4 to 1 ; 
and the causes which hav^ thus altered the proportion in fa- 
vour of the Catholics, are sufiiciently obvious to any one ac- 
quainted with the state of Ireland. The Roman Catholic 
priest resides; his income entirely depends upon the num- 
ber of his flock; and he must exert himself, or he starves. 
There is some chance of success, therefore, in his efforts to 
convert ; but the Protestant clergyman, if he were equally eager, 
has little or no probability of persuading so much larger a pro- 
portion of the population to come over to his cliurch. The Ca- 
tholic clergyman belongs to a religion that has always been 
more desirous of gaining proselytes than the Protestant church ; 
and he is animated by a sense of injury and a desire of revenge. 
Another reason for the disproportionate increase of Catholics 
is, that the Catholic will marry upon means which the Protest- 
ant considers as insufficient for marriage. A few potatoes and 
a shed of turf, are all that Luther has left for the Romanist; 
and, when the latter gets these, he instantly begins upon the 
great Irish manufacture of children. But a Protestant belongs 
to jlie sect that eats the fine flour, and leaves the bran to others: 
— lie must have coinfoits, and he does not marry till he gets 
them. He would be ashamed if he were seen living as a Catho- 
lic lives. This is the principal reason why the Protestants who 
remain attached to tlicir church do not increase sc fast as the Ca- 
tholics. But in common niinds, daily scenes, the e:L:aniple of the 
majority, the power of imitation, decide then* habits religious as 
well as civil. A Protestant labourer who w orks among Catho- 
lics, soon learns to think and act and talk as they do — lie is not 
proof against the eternal panegyric which he hears of Father 

Leary. His Protestantism is rubbed aw^ay ; and he goes at 
last, after some little resistance, to the chapel, where he sees 
every body else going. 

These eight Catholics not only hate the ninth man, the 
Protestant of the Establishment, for the unjust privileges he 
enjoys — not only remember that the^lmds of their father 
were given to his father — but they find themselves forced to' 
^lay for the support of his religion. In the wretched Ftate 
of^overty in which the lower orders of Irish are plunged, 
iCu not without considerable effort that they can pay the 




fow ‘‘Ifiillngs nrcossfiry r<ir the support of their Catholic priest j 
niid whoM ihis ellected, d tenth oi‘ the ponitoos in the gar- 
den :*re tt> be set <ait tor the sujtp' rt of a pori^uasion, the 
iiitunluetion oi wljieli into Irebuul il'ey ' insider as the great 
can>e e.l'tlieir pt bticiil inferi- ril}, and all their manifold wretch- 
edness. In Engbuul, a labourer can procure constant em- 
ploy ji>ent — or h<‘ can, at t^e woist, obtain relief from his pa- 
rish. Whrtlier tithe o| ernes as ,a tax upexn him, is known 
only to the political ecoiioitiist : if be does pay it, he docs 
not know tliat he pays it ; a.ul the burthen of supporting the 
Clery;v is at Ic kept out (;f !us view. Uut^ in Ireland, the 
oiiiv inetlioci in wliici) a poor man lives, is by taking a small 
portion of land, in* which lie Citn grow potatoes : seven or eight 
moiiilis out of twelve. In many paits of Ireland, tliero is no 
constant ei’^j.ioy.i.ent of lhe|X)or: and llic potatoe farm is all 
that shelters them from abs(3!uie fiunine. If the Pope were to 
come iii persem, and se:ze u})on every tenth potatoe, the poor 
peasant would scarcely endure it: With what patience; then, 
can ho sec it tossed into the cart of the heretic llcclbr, wIk; has 
a church williout a conjrregation, and a r(‘ve:iue without dutie.-,? 

We do not say whether these things are right cn* wrong — w!je- 
tlicr tlicy \vant a remedy at all — or uluii renjcdy they want ; but 
wc paint t!ieni in those C{)ir)urs in winih iJiey appear to the eye 
of poverty ajid ignorance, Avithuut saying whether those colours 
arc false or true : Nor is the case at all comparable to tliat of 
Disseiiieis paying tithe in England ; which caso is prec isoJy J:he 
reverse of what happens in Ireland; fur it is ilie cuntribulion c>f 
a voy small minority to the religion of a very large majority; 
and the numbers on cithcT side liiuke all the diirereiu'c in the 
arguhienr. To exas])eratc the poor Catijolic stid more, the rich 
graziers o'^ the parish — or the Scjuiii? in his parish — pay no 
tillie at all for their p;r.iss land. Agistment tithe is abrlishe l in 
Ireland : and the burthen of* Mippoiting twr? Chinches s(*enis to 
devedve upon llie poorer Cmlndics, struggling v\jth plough and 
spade in small scraps of dearly-riMiled land. Tillies seem to be 
collected in a nv'ro harsli m ni^er limn, they an* collect 'd in 
Iv.jiainl. Ti?e nsiiuite Mil d:Vfdo?}s (»i land in i reland-r the lit- 
tle to* u'\ion whiMi die ih-ok'-' nU cKrgvmru) cor-Tiionly has 
witii the ('atiioh.c psJjml.ition i f Ids jrni^i?, h ve made the in- 
trodiution of iJthe-prector.s vi ry ge.ieral — somciiiaes as the a- 
^eiit of the cltrgyman-^soiiieliu.e-. as tiic h ssee or i>iiddlc-maa 
between tlio dergyiitan and tlie cultivator of tiie land; but, in 
eitlier case, — pracUsc^J, dextei mis estimatoi's tjf tithe. The Eng- 
lish clergymen, in general, an* iar fr nn exacting the wliolc^^ of 
virhat is due to them, but sacrifice a hille to the love of popular 


rity, or to the dread of odium. A syj=-tcm of tithc-proctors c- 
stablished all over Euglfuul (:is it is hi Iroiaud), wouhl produce 
general au<l jdieua' uu froui tlie lvstah!i:4ie<l C^hurch- 

: ‘ Durin^r the adininistratitm of Lord Halifax, ' says Mr HaiiiVs in 

•quoting the opinion »)f Lord Charleinont upon tit lies paid hy Ca- 
tholics, * Ireland was dangciously di‘vtur!>ed in its sontlierii and 
northern regions. In the south princip.iliy, ia tlie count i(‘s ol Kil- 
kenny, Limerick, Cork, and Tipperary, the White Bo^s now made 
their first appearance; those White T3o\s, who have c\er since occa- 
sionally disturbed the public tranquillity, witliout any ratiotud method 
having been as yet^ursued to eradicate this disgraceful evil. When 
we consider, that, the very same distiict ha*^ been lor the long space 
of seven and twenty years liaolc to frequent iciurns of (he same dis- 
order into which it has continually relapsfid, in .vpite of nil the violent 
remedies f* o*>j time to4line administered by our jiiilltieal rju,;ch.'!, we can- 
not doubt bin th it some real, peculiar, and tof>ieal iMUac must exi^t ; 
autl yet, neither tlie r<nnoval, nor cve ii the '•ligation i>r this c.iutc, 
lia'i «.M,r In e|i seriously atteiupred. La'v.s -a" the s^mguiuary 
ae.d imeon--!iiutionid nature ha\e Ikcn < uacted : li.e couiurv has been 
diMnav’ed, yd eXsi perat d by ^Vv'qnc m vmI bioody ej.. c . lions ; and 
the d'l ‘v\oL<>v<’ ol v.'iJ and ti‘r:i>iarei's, has 

greautd ti»e mntjie ue of^Ur'-'nio t e< , v\hiie (lie 

cause is to (het^'.e will tv - Iddov The mni) Na- 
tion of li'.vbi V. ih c'.'auie’Ui p''ui.(:it jiucceii:', wliich must he 

sough: in Its smtrei a .d re r< r,jwOiefi 

‘ i wi-it, ’ CO 'tJ’n''- .M** Vvi,' rhad, ‘ f.-r the ' oriaif srmifv, and 
for tine honour of th,' fri :i el that tin. C!i ef that 

coukitrv V. nui;l ta!^ ' th.i' i .«::>.** mto ^heir seriou* cnnsjtleralion. I^et 
then- on'-^ ibr a ni o*/; • \ hua tinnijicivcs iii the f.itu idon of the Incf- 
fai.ish (i ( alior, Mn»ei.e.k‘:i liy n v. re-chod i.emly, c arnoroas fhr 
fojt'.l ; Hi : i'-'.lge whe Ii' ruu^t , u hen he sees the tenth 
]?;n ) ol (i)'J prod 'ev* ol' lu:^ lU go v i> posed at liarvesi time to 
’public ' / ; or, it‘ he have ylvcn a p oue.ssois note for tlie payment 

of a su.n of money, to c(>in}n risaie lor such tithe when it 

beconur fun', ro hear ihe lie:irt-r«'iuling cries oi’h's ofKnrmg clinging 
roiii.d hmi. ir d ’ for the milk of which :!u \ are f'kprived, 

by the cow* lU:.' i\> .en to the pemrid, to bn sohl te> disclunge the 
debt. Such u e >m t,- are not the creations of I’lmev : (he iiicls do 
exist, and :’rt but t‘*o conmion in Ireland. V»'ere oi\ ed j!ie:n trails- 
feiT^^I Id c.mviis b\ ilu' hand of genius, a^id i xhibiied to Ih.ijJlOi hu- 
manity, that luart miM i)e callous indeetl tliat couhi i\ its >yin- 
pathy, 1 have seen ihe cow, the favourite cow, dr-M n ii\\,:y. ae- 
compuriii'd by the srglis. the tejrs, and the iiuproc Uu‘«ns ol a whoh? 
family, who were paddling after, through wet aud d'’.T, to take (iau- 
last affectionate f&lhDwell of tliis their only friend and benchu'toi . at 
,j|he yxuind gate. 1 have heard with 'emotions wdiieh 1 can Marcciy 
de^ibe, deep curses repeati d from village to village as the eaval- 
‘ proceeded. 1 have witnessed the group pass the domain walls 

©f the opulent grazier, whese numerous lierds were cropping th^* 


most luxuriant pastures, while he was secure from aujr 4einaiid for 
the tithe of their food, looking on with the most unfeeling indifier* 
ence. * — Ibid. p. 486. » 

In Munster, where tithe of potatoes is exacted, risings against 
the system have constantly occurred during the last forty years. 
In Ulster, where no such tithe is required, these insurrec- 
tions are unknown. The double church which Ireland sup- 
ports, and that painful visible contribution towa^rd^ it which 
the poor Irishman is compelled to make froip his miserable pit- 
tance, is one great cause of those never-ending insurrections, 
burnings, murders and robberies, which hage laid waste that 
ill-fated •country for so many years. The unfortunate conse- 
quence of the civil disabilities, and the church payments under 
which the Catholics labour, is a rooted antipathy to tliis coun- 
try. They hate the English Government Irom historical re- 
collection, actual suffering, and disappointed hope; and till 
they are better treated, they will continue to hate it. At this 
moment, in a period of the most profound pfeace, there are 
twenty*five thousand of the best disciplined and best api)ointed 
troops in the world in Ireland, with bayonets fixed, presented 
arms, and in the attitude of present war : nor is there a man 
too much — nor would Ireland be tenable without them. When 
it was necessary last year (or thought necessary) to put down 
the children of Reform, we were forced to make a new levj’ of 
troops in this country — ^not a ftian could be spared from Ireland. 
The moment they had embarked, Peep-of-day Boys, Ueart- 
of-Oak Boys, Twelve-o^Clock Boys, Hear t-of- Flint Boys, uiul 
all the bloody boyhood of the Bog of Allen, would liave pro- 
ceeded to the antient work of riot, rapine, and disaffection. 
Ireland, in short, till her wrongs arc rcciressc'd, and a more li- 
beral policy is adopted towards her, always be a cause of 
anxiety ana suspicion to this country; and, in some moment 
of our weakness and depression, will forcibly extort what she 
w'ould now receive with gratitude and exultation. 

Ireland is situated close to anotlicr island of greater size, 
speaking the same language, very superior in civilization, and 
the seat of government. The consequence of this is the euiigra- 
tion of the richest and most powerful part of the cominiiui^ — 
a vast drain of wealth — and the absence of all that wholesome 
influence which the representatives of ancient families residing 
upon their estates, produce upon their tenantry and depend^ 
ants. Can any man imagine that the scenes wbich have been 
acted in Ireland within these last twenty years, would have taken 

S lace, if such vast proprietors as the Duke of Devonshire, the^ 
ifarquis of Hertford, the Marquis of Lansdown, Earl Fitz^v^lr 
ham, and many other then of equal wealth, had been in the 




constant habit of residing upon their Irish, as they are upon 
their English estates? Is it of no consequence to the order, 
and the civilization *of a large district, whether the great man- 
:sion is inhabited by an insignificant, perhaps a mischievous, 
attorney, in the shape of agent, or whether the first and 

f reatest men^of the United Kingdoms, after the business of 
Wliament is over, come with their friends and families, to 
exercise hospittflity, to spend large revenues, to diffuse infor- 
mation, and to improve manners ? This evil is a very serious 
one to Ireland ; and, as far as we see, incurable. For if the 
present large estates were, by tlie dilapidation of families, to 
, be broken to pieces, and'^old, — others equally great would, in 
the free circulation of property, speedily accumulate; and the 
moment any possessor arrived at a certain pilch of fortune, he 
would probably chiise to reside in the better country, — ^ncar the 
Parliament, or the Court. 

This absence of great proprietors in Ireland, necessarily 
brings with it, or, if not necessarily, has actually brought with 
it, the employment of middlemen, which forms one other statid- 
ing and regular Irish grievance. * We are well aware of all 
that can bo said in defence of middlemen ; that they stand be- 
tween the little farmer and tlic great proprietor, as the shop- 
keeper does between the maiiufacLurer and consumer; — and, ia 
fact, by their intervention, save time, and therefore expense. 
This may be true enough in the abstract; but tlic particular 
nature of land must be attended to. The object of the man 
who hiakcs cloth, is to sell his cloth at the present market for 
as high a price as he can obtain. If that price is too high, it 
soon fulls; but no injury is done to his machinery by the supe- 
rior price he has enjoyed for a season — he is just as able to 
produce cloth with it, as if the profits he enjoyed bad always 
. been equally moflerater he has no fear, therefore, of the mid- 
dleman, or of any species of moral machine^ which may help to 
obtain ibr him the greatest present prices. The same would be 
the feeling of any one who let out a steam engine, or any other 
machine, for the purposes of manufacture; he would iiiiliirally 
take the highest price he could get; fen- he might either let his 
machine for a price proportionate to the work it did, or tlie re- 
pairs, estimable with the greatest precision, might be thrown 
upon the tenant ; — in short, he could hardly ask any rent too 
high for his machine which a responsible person would give ; — 
dilapidation would be so visible, and so calculable in sucli in- 
stances, that any secondary lease, or subletting, would be rather 
eSi increase of security than . a source of alarm. Any evil front 
practice would be i(Dpr<>bable> mcosureable, and rcmcr 


, In Jantf, on liie contrary, tlie object is not to ^ tfic 
liif 2 ;!iest prices absolutely, but to get the hipest prices which 
will not injure the machine. One tenant ^nay offer and pay 
double the rent of another, and in n few years leave the land ' 
in a state wltich will effectually bar all future offers of tenancy. 
It is of no use to fill n lease full of clauses and. covenants; a 
ter.ant who pays more than be ought to pay, or who pays even 
to the last farthing \^!ucb he ought to pay, wUl ,rob the land, 
and injure the nificbiiic, iii spite of all the attornies in Kng- 
land. He will rob it c\ en if he means to remain upon it — driven 
on by pu'sciitdj^lrefi'*, and anxious to put off the day of defalca- 
tion r.'i'd nrrou*. Tin* damage is dmui difliciiit of detection; 
not C'lsijy cr.InfrUod, r easily to he proved such, for %vhich 
juric:«. (Uiein'^t-ives pern ;bs fanners) wdll not willingly give suffi- 
cient cc nipcp- if this is true in England, it is much 
m. i:' Irur in Irc!‘n**.b where it is extremely diffiec.dt to 

\ei’<ric(s for breiulios of covenant in leases. 

Tb,e only irtlbcd ilien cfgn iriiipg the much inr from real Inju- 
ry, i^' by giving tr> ti)e actual i't*ca}fi(T <*i:ch advantfig ' in bisc\ u- 
tract, ihril 1)0 i« u:<\\I]iing to give it up;— lb. n iio a lo.d intor- 
c*'* In ictaijn'gi: if, and is not driven by the rb"trc.'>M s <d thoT ro- 
M I'l UKJiiK'iU to dc.^tn'v the futnn prodiiotiveness c'l'llio ^oil. A y wb’ib il.o I'lDdir.rd ncccjits ruoio tijan lldsi, or any "^y si cm 
by v.ldij' ot titan tbi.s i.s ohfaint'd, is to borrtm' Tri.i’ey up- 

ois ti:o 3 osi iUiurioti.s ami i roti'^ f- <ntrro:4 — to tm »^ the 
rcvt '.'iiii <;[ die profUi day by the abo lute ruiu <4' tKe pio[>r3jy. 
fcii’cb iy t'le efi’oet pioduccd iiy a UiKiJb’nian t — lie gists *n(f.;h 
prices t!mt he may obtain Ingin r fr<an Hh- otxiipici ; m. re is, 
j)aid by the actual occupier tlifjn is (-‘Usivfprt wub liso salt ty 
ami prc^evvaliou of tlio I /iflnno ; the 1; nti is *’im oi't,, in 
tlic end, that ivmx’ri'uni (d r<‘nt wc hav^- defecribed is lua ob- 
tained ; and not only i-: the or-^'peity byared by ^uch n '-ys-' 
tein, i-i;t in Ire \uail tile nios! shocking Cf'-isc()uences> eiiMie 
from it, Theiv is little manuiaciuro in li eland; tlie jirice of 
labour i- low, the ueiiunu! foi labour in eyidar. Ifapo' -rmau 
is driven, !;v diistress of nan, from his p naluo garden, lie has 
no Ollier re^' nice — all i> lest; lie will do the impossible (as the 
French sac; lo ictain it; subscribe aii} bond, rfnd promise any 
rent. The udddlcman iias jio characier to^Josc; and lie knew, 
when lU- took up the cccMipation, that it was one with which 
pity Inu! nothing to do. On he drives; 4uul backward the poor 
peasant r('cede.s, losing soinetliin:: at every step, till he comes 
to the vmy brink of despair; ant! tlien he recoils smd murders 
his opj.)ressor, and is a fy/uie Hq^ or a Hight Boy : — tl)c sow 
dier shoots him, and, the Judge* hangs him. 


In tHe debate which took place in the Irish rhMi:.e of Com- 
mons, upon the bill for preventing tumultiions i cings and as- 
semblies, on the 31st of Jamiaiy 1787,1 the Attorney- General 
sjibmitted to the House the tWlowing nanativc of ficls. 

‘ The coMnicnqement, * said he, ‘ was in one or two parishes in 
the county of Kerry ; .and they proceeded thus. The peofjie assem- 
bled in a CathpHcIChapel, add (here took an oath to obey tlie i iws 
of Captain Right, and to starve the Clergy- They then proceeded 
to the next parishes, on the following Sunday, and there swore the 
people in the same manner; with.tliis addition, that they (tlx' peopie 
last sworn) should on the ensuing Sunday proceed to the C’liapcU of 
their next neighbouring parishes and swear the inluibitants of’ those 
parishes in like maniw. Proceeding in this nianiu r, they very soon 
went through the province of Munster. r The first object was, the 
rr/hrmalion of They' sw<»re not to giie mere a ceriaiii 

j)ricc per acre; Itot to assist, or allow' thorn to bo assisted, in drawing 
the titlic, and to permit proo^or. They next lock upon tluni to 
prevent the collection of parish cesses ; next to nominate purisJi 
clorl;s, and in some cases iinratos ; to say wdiat Church shur.kl or 
should nut be repaired ; and in one case to threaten that tlu v would 
burn a vcw Churt‘h, ii* the old <ch were not given lor a Mats hou^L^ 
At last, they pro-'oetlcd to regulate the price of lands ; to lais * the 
pricj' of labour; and to oppose the coiiection of the liearth money, 
and o^hef taxes, bodies of i)()()0 of them have been seen tu uj.irch 
through the country unarmed, and if met by any Mi)i;»sirute, fha/ 
iievcr ofpTed tht ^yh({ilL‘<.f ri(,lcnrss or ojft^uce ; on thu contrary, they 
had allowed persons charged w'ith crime«» to be taken from amongst 
lliLus 1)y the Magistrate (itwie, unaided by any force. ’ ^ 

* 'i'lio AUorney-Gcneral said, was well acquainted will) the 
pixnince ol* Munster, and that Jt was impossible fur human wrciclied- 
ncss to o/' ike per. Hintry^qf ' that province. The unhappy 

tenantry ground to 2 mx\:dcr hy relentless landlords; that, farfroiii 

being able to give the Clergy their just dues, they had not food or 
raiment for tlternselves, — the landlord grasped the wliole ; and .*>orry 
was hf/ to add, that, not satisfied with the present extortion. Ssjuie 
landlords had been so base as to instigate the insurg nt.s to rob the 
Clergy of their tithes ; not in order to alleviate the distresses of iJie 
tenantry, but that tht y might add the Clergy's share , to the cruel 
rack-rents they already paid. The poor people of IMunstcv lived in 
a more abject state of poverty than human nature could be supposed cfjual 
to bear, ’ — Grattans Spetches, VoL /. 292- 

Weave not, of course, in such a discussion, to be governed 
by names. A middleman might be tied up by the slroiigost le- 
gal restriction, as to the price he was to exact from the luuier- 
t^tants, and then he would be no more pernicious to the estate 
than 4 steward. A steward might be protected in exactions as 
^aWfefe as the must rapacious middleman ; and then, of coursej 



it would be the same thiug under another name# The mvotlce 
to which we object, is, the too common method^ in . Irdand of 
extorting the last farthing which the tenant is willing to mye for 
land, rather than quit it ; and t||e machinery by whi^ ^uch 
practice is carried into effect, is that of the h|idaleman. It is 
not only that it ruins the land ; it jriiins the people .^so. They 
are made so poor — ^brought so near the ^oimo^bat they can 
sink no lower ; and burst out at last into all the of despera- 

tion and revenge, for which Ireland irso notorfbus; * Men who 
have money in their pockets, and find that thw are improving 
in their circumstances, don’t do these things. Opulence, or the 
hope of opulence or comfort, is the parent of decency^ brder, and 
submission to the laws. A landlord in Irehtod understands the 
luxury of carriages and houses; but has no relish for the greater 
luxury ofsurroiiiuling himself with a moral and jgi^t^l tenantry. 
Tlie absent proprietor looks only to revenue, auAcares nothing for 
the disorder and degradation of a Country which he never means 
to visit. There arc very honourable exceptions to this charge ; 
but there are too many living instances that it is just. The rapa- 
city of the Irish landlord induces him to allow of the extreme divi- 
sion of his lands. When the daughter marries, a little portion of 
the little farm is broken off' — another corner for Patrick, and ano- 
ther f "r Dermot — till the land is broken into sections, upon one 
of wliich an English cow could not stand. Twenty mansions of 
misery arc thus reared instead of one. A louder cry of oppression 
is lifted up to Heaven; and fresh enemies to the English name, 
andij^owcr, are multiplied on th^ earth. The Irish gentlemen, 
too, are extremely desirous of political influence, by multiply- 
ing freolujlds %nd splitting votes ; and this propensity tends of 
course to increase the miserable redundance of living beings, 
under wiiicli Ireland is groaning. Among the manifold wretch- 
edness to which the poor Irish tenant is liable, we must not 
pass over the practice of driving for rent. A lets land to B, 
who lets It to C, who lets it again to D< D pays C his rent, 
and C pays B. But if B fails to pay A, the cattle of B, C, D 
arc all driven to the pound, and, after the. interval of a few days, 
sold by auction. A general driving of this kind very frequently 
leads to a bloody insurrection- It may be ranked among die 
classical grievances of Ireland. 

Potatoes enter for a great deal into the present condition of 
Ireland. They are much cheaper than wheat; and it is so etisy 
to rear a family upon them, that there is no check to popula- 
tion from the diiEculty of procuring food. The population 
therefore goes on with a rapidity approaching almost to that of 
P0W countiies, and In a nmeb greater ratio than the improTtoj; 



agriculture and maifufacrtures of the country can find employ- 
ment lor it All degrees of all nations begin with living in pig- 
Styes. The king or the priest first gets out of them ; then the 
noble, then the pauper, in proportion as each class becomes 
more and more opulent : Better tastes arise from better circum- 
stances ; and th|^ luxury of due period is the wretchedness and 
poverty of aii^heir. ffuglish peasants, in the time of Henry the 
Seventh, were lodged as badly as Irish peasants now are; but 
the population was liniited by the difficulty of procuring a com 
subsistence. The iihprovements of this kingdom were more 
rapid; the price of labour roiic; and, with it, the luxury and 
comfort of the peasant;^ who is now decently lodged and cloth- 
ed, and who would think himself in the last stage of wTetebed- 
ness, if he had nothing but an iron pot in a turf house, and 
plenty of potatoes in it. The use of the potatoe was introduced 
into Ireland when the wretched accommodation of her own pen/- 
santry bore some proportion to the state of those accommoda- 
tions all over Europe, But they have increased their population 
so fast, and, in conjunction with the oppressive government of 
Ireland retarding improvement, have kept tlic i)ricc of labour 
so low, that the Irish poor have never been able to emerge 
from their mud cabins, or to acquire any taste for cleanliness 
and decency of appearance. Mr Curvven has the following de- 
scription of Irish cottages, 

* These mansions of miserable existence, for so they may truly be 
described, conformably to our general estimation of those indispens- 
able comforts requisite to constitute the happiness of rational beings^ 
are most commonly composed of two rooms on ihe groundT floor, a 
most appropriate term, for they are literacy on the earth ; the sur- 
face of which is not unfrcquently reduced a foot or more, to save the 
expense of so much outward walling. The one is a refectory, the 
other the dormitory. The furniture of the former, if the owner ranks 
in the upper part of the scale of scantiness, will consist of a kitchen 
dresser, well provided and highly decorated xvith crokery — not less 
apparently the pride of the husband, than the result of itmale vanity 
in the wife : which, with a table— a chest— a few. stools — and an iron 
pot, complete tlie catalogue of conveniences generally 1b and, as be- 
longing to the cabin; while a spinning-wheel, furnished by the Li- 
nen Board, and a loom, ornament vacant spaces, that otlK i wise would 
remain unfurnished. In fitting up the latter, which cannot, on any 
occasion, or by any display, add a feather to the weight or import- 
ance expected to bo^excited by the appearance of the former, the 
inventory is limited to one, and sometimes two beds, serving fur 
tHe repose of the whole family I Kfowever downy those muy l)o to 
limhs-inipatieht for rest, their Oov^ings appeared to be very slight ; 
]anS the whole of the ap|Nlfiment created reflections of a very |ja:n- 



ful nature. Under such privations, with a wet tnud floor, and a roof 
ill tatters, how idle the search for comrorts ! — Cwncew, I. 112, IIJJ* 

To this extract we shall add one more on the same subject. 

‘ The pgantic figure, bare-headed before rnc, had a be'iard thtit 
would not have disgraced an anciejit Israeli le — he was without shoes 
or stockings — and almost a saii.s-culotfe— with k coat, or rather a 
jacket, tiiat appeared as if the first blast of wind would* tear it to tat- 
ters. Though his gaib was thus tattered* he had a manly command- 
ing countenance. I asked permission to see Jhe inside of his cabin, 
to wdiich 1 received his most courteous assent. Oh stooping to enter 
at the door I was stopped* and fo^d that permission from another 
was i)i ce.'^sary before 1 could he admitted. A pfg. whiifli was fas- 
tcticfi to a stake driven into the floor, with length of rope sufficient 
to permit him tlic enjoyment of sun and aif, demanded some courtc- 
which I showed him, and was suflbred to enter. The wife was 
cMigaged in boihiig thread ; and by her, side, near the fire, a lovx*Jy 
infant was sleejung, without any coverinjg, on a bare hoaul. W'hc- 
tiier the fire gave additional glow to the coiin^nance of tlie babe, or 
that Nature imprcs.^ed on its unconscious che£4t a blush that the lot 
of man sliould be exposed to such privations, I w ill not decide ; but 
if the cause be refen ible to the latter, it was in perfect unison with 
iny own ieeJings. Two or time other clnldren crow^led round llic 
motlier: on (lieir rosy countenances health seemed established in 
srlte of liltli and ragged garment^. The dress of the poor woman 
sunicient to .salisf} decency. Her countenance bore the 
impn s.sion of a set melancholy, tinctured with an appearance of ill 
Ik'ahh. Tiio hovel, which did not exceed twelve or fifteen in 
leiigtl). and ten in breadth, was htdl’ obscured by smoke — clmnnoy 
or window I saw none: the door served the various pLuposc:, of an 
iiilrt to light, and the outlet to smoke*. The furniture ( onsisjed of 
twostooU, an iron pot, and a spinning-wheel — y^hiie a s ick s!uired 
willi straw, and rf single blanket laid on planks,' seived as a bed ibr 
the re»>o-e of tile vvlioic family. Need I attempt to dcscrilie iny sen- 
satloi.s? 'I he statement alone cannot fail of conveying, to a mind 
like v«mrs, an adequate idea of tln ui — 1 could not long rennun a 
w'itnevs to ti»is acme of human misery. As I left the deplorahie ha- 
hir?n?on, the uiistrtss followed me to repeat her thanks for the trifle 
1 had bestowed : 'I his gave me an opportunity ol’ observing her per- 
son inorf* particularly. Khc was a tall figure, duT countenance com- 
})usvd uf iiitercsting features, and with every Jtp[>earance of having 
once been iumdsome. ^ 

‘ 1 '.owlllnig to quit the village without first satisfying myself whe- 
ther w ha: i had seen was a solitary instance, or *a sample ofVits ge- 
neral state ; or whether the extremity of poverty I had just beheld 
had arise n from peculiar improvidence and want of management in 
one wretched family ; I went into an adjoining habitation, wjicrel 
fur.nd a poor old W'oman of eighty, whoao^mihcrablc existcnce^SPai 




painfully continued by thd maintenance of her ^randdaivj:hter. Their 
condition, it posJMhle, was more deplorable/— 6*wncr'w, J. ] 81—183. 

This WA'eic'jeciiK'SN ol wJiich all stranpers who \i>ii irehiz^d 
sa hensibic, (!.s certaiidy, in jt^rcat nic:i>ure, Irom 

tii accidohlni ci a Akhi. hO cheap, that it cncoiiraaes po- 
p:i' z/ioii to an^CKtniordinftry deforce, i*nver;, the price ol labour, 
io J jeavo'^ the miiltiluflea W’hich it calls iiiu> exi.'tence ahnost 
u --tiu!te c>f every thizig but foot!. Many more live, incorise- 
vpiouce oTthe hiU’viJnction of potatoe^i ; but all live in. peater 
’v\rc!e!H‘ la the progress of popuhifimi, the potaloe must 
of course become at last as dUncult to be procured as any other 
foo;i ; and thta let the political economist calcziiato what tlie 
ijDUicnsity and wretchedness of a people must be, \vl»ere the 
farther orogreiss of poiiulaiion is checked by the dllKcuIty of 
piociiriiig potatoes. 

The ce.rj uvjuoncc of tlie long mismanagement and oppression 
of Ireland, wivA of the singulMV circumstances in wliich iiis plac- 
ed, !>*, that it is a “emibarbarous country more shame t(» vho'.e 
who Imvc tbus, dl treated a fine country, and a lino peor^le ; but 
it i:t |i a t of the;, prc'^CiJL case of Ireland. T!ia barbarisiu of Irc- 
]u;id is evinced by the frequency and feroci.y <'-i’ diuels. — the 
liereditiry clannihlj feuds of tJjc common peo]»:e, — ':nd the 
ii'i/b U) which they give birth, — the a^rociou^ ci uelb<.'> r.ractised 
in (tie i rsurrcjctjour, o^* the c^uxzucu people — a’ul lii ^ir r^'ront*- 
s U> insurrection. Tin' lower Irisli live in a state of "‘le 'icr 
vvretJ ; 'll e:s ll^jo any oilier pttade in Ivaron^e, ini ’ i>.hur 
so tine a s<-!j mid tlincuc. It is difiicuh, ofte'j I.>*p'jr "line, 
to i*xe<*Mle the pr^>cc^^e^. of iaw- In cas<s- ivl' '!’(* gcotlemen 
art' C’S>e('i ne:], it i'- often not e.ven attempted. I'i.e condin'l of 
under-'’!- is very eorrupt. Wa are ^nr ud the lO'iy:/- 
C'. L.! - ii IS V(!ry inierim’ to -A a oS U ‘oiuit^y; ;'.ie 
spirit ol* bribery is very v\’Kk*'\ A'i ‘d„ n)*'! d". n 

orcisie-Oi, ubf-i the utmost purity picvails iii t'iC si ; i.o' . ;i. 

Mhlary h'»rcc net ah tiie connlrv, e d o',-'., ihr 

tlie .; rominon a id just opcratiiuis of (iove’.ni i ::e- 

Imvic.ur of th(! iiig! e* lb the lower order’s, is mut o !e ^ :o*iitie 
an<! de-eni tlnni i-. Engiand. Blows from ^ i > -i .e i irs 

are more fret jueiit, and die puriishuicnt for sne* u • Tsor(‘ 

do!’’ t'ui. T!ie w'or i i seems, iu • • ..■•h io Kut -.n 

end to most prov3es"e’* m Avaesi m . !’!! — < s' o 

out. a v^arj ant ugaii's! e gentleman— aie -d ci oy'eu.oii f.ot 

v.ry common i t du* adunnistrnlicm of Irish iii lc *. i* a ^ n 
stiiikes the mca-iCot in Ertc^iano, lie ia eiiiu’r k*.\ '^d 
ijin'i?-iin his tun:, or b* ;> .‘d itely ^ Ivif'C.' a j' sr.g. * B- 
TTiinpOiSsibie to live in Ireland, vvillicuL pcrccivipy; llie 

SSI Jteioftd* 

points in wUich it is inferior in civilization. Want of unity in 
feeling and interest among tlie people, — ^irritability, violence^ and 
revenge, — want of comfort and cleanliness in the lower orders, . 
— habitual disobedience to the law, — want of confidence in ma-r 
gistrates, — corruption, venality, the perpetual necessity of re- 
curring td military force, — all carry^ haw > the t^^^ver to that 
remote and early condition of maiwind,^ which an * Englishman 
can learn only in the pages of the an^^uary or the historian. 
We do not draw this picture for censure, but for truth. We 
admire the Irish, — feel the most sincere , pity for the state of 
Ireland, — and tliink tlie conduct of the ^glish to that country 
to have been a system of atrocious cruel^ and contemptible 
meanness. With such a climate, such a soil, and su<^ a peo- 
ple, the inferiority of Ireland to the rest of Europe is directly 
chargeable to the long wickedness of tlie English Government. 

A direct consequence of the present uncivilized state of Ireland 
is, that very little English capital travels l^re. .Tlie man who 
deals in steam-engines, and warps and woi!^ is naturally alarm- 
ed by Peep-of-Day Boys, and nocturnal Carders ; his object is 
to buy and sell as quickly and quietly as he can ; and he will 
naturally bear high taxes and rivalry in England, or emigrate 
to any part of the Continent, or to America, rather than plunge 
into the tumult of Irish politics and passions. There is no- 
thing whicli Ireland wants more than large manufacturing towns, 
to take olF its superfluous population. But internal peaces must 
come first, and then the arts of peace will folJcm\ "J'he fc^eign 
manufacturer will hardly think of embarking his capital, where 
he cannot be sure that his existence is safe. Another check to 
the manufacturing greatness of Ireland, is the scarcity — not of 
coal — but of good coal, cheaply raised ; an article in which (in 
spite of papers in the Irish Transactions) they are lamentably 
inferior to the English. 

Another consequence from some of the causes we have stated, 
is the. extreme idleness of the Irish labourer. There is nothing 
of the value of which the Irish seem to have so little notion as 
that of time. They scratch, pick, daudle, stare, gape, and do 
any thing but strive and wrestle with the task before them. The 
most ludicrous of all human objects, is an Iiishmaji ph)uglung. 
— A gigioitic figure — a seven foot machine for turning potatoes 
into hiiiiraii nature, wTapt^up in an immense great coat, and 
urging on ^o starved ponies, with dreadful imprecatioifts, and 
uplifted shmala. The Irish croW discerns a coming perquisite, 
and is not inattentive to the proceedings of the steeds. The 
furrow which is to be the depositary of the future crop, 
unlike, cither in depth or regularity, to tliose domestic furrows. 



. 18 ^ 

which the nails of the meek and much-Injurcd wife plough, in 
some family quarrel, upon the cheeks of the deservedly-punish- 
ed husband. The weeds seem to fall contentedly, knowing that 
»they have fulfilled their dcstin>', and left behind them, for the 
resurrection of the ensuing spring, an abundant and healthy 
progeny. The whole is a scene of idleness, laziness, and po- 
verty, of which it is impossible, in this active and enterprising 
country, to form the most distant conception ; but strongly in- 
dicative of habits, w’hcther secondary or original, which will long 
present a powerful impediment to the improvement of Ireland. 

The Irish character contributes something to retard the im- 
provements of that country. The Irishman lias many good 
qualities? He is brave, witty, generous, eloquent, hospitable, 
and open-hearted ; but he is vain, ostentatious, extrav .gaiit, and 
fond of display — light in counsel — deficient in perseverance — 
witliout skill in private or public economy — an enjoyer, not an 
acquirer — one who despises the slow and patient virtues — who 
wants the superstructure without the foundation — the result 
without the previous operation — tlie oak without the acorn and 
the three hundred years of expectation. 'Fhe Irish are irasci- 
ble, prone to debt, and to fight, and very impatient of the re- 
straints of law. Such a people are not likely to keep their eyes 
steadily upon the main chance, like the. Scotch or the Dutch. 
England strove very hard, at one period, to compel the Scotch 
to pay a double Church ; — but Sawney took his pen and ink ; 
arid finding what a sum it amounted to, became furious, and 
dre\? his sword. God forbid the Irishman should do the same : 
the remedy, now, would be worse than the disease : But if the 
oppressions of England had been more steadily resisted a cen- 
tury ago, Ireland would not have been the scene of poverty, 
misery, and distress which it now is. 

The Catholic religion, among other causes, contributes to the 
backwardness and barbarism of Ireland. Its debasing super- 
stition, childish ceremonies, and the profound submission to 
the priesthocxl which it teaches, all tend to darken men’s minds, 
to impede the progress of knowledge and inquirj», and to pre- 
vent Ireland from becoming as free, os pow^erfuJ, and as rich as 
the sister kingdom. Thou^ sincere friends to Catholic eman- 
cipation, we are no advocates for the Catholic religion. We 
should be very glad to sec a general conversion to Protestantism 
among the Irish ; but w'e do not think that violence, privations, 
and incapacities, are the proper methods of making proselytes. 

Such then is Ireland at this period, — a land more barbarous 
flian the rest of Europe, because it has been worse treated and 

vcTl. xxxiv. NO. 6b. Y 

inore cruelly oppressed. Many of the incapacities and lyriva- 
lions to whicii the Catholics were exposed, have been removed by 
law; but, in such instances, they are still incapacitated and de- 
prived by custom. Many cruel and oppressive laws are s^ill en- ’ 
forced against them. A ninth part of the population engrosses 
all the honours of the country ; the other nine pavta tenth of the 
product of the earth for the support of a religion in which they 
do not believe. There is little capital in the country. The 
great and rich men are called by business, or allured by plea- 
sure, into England ; their estates are given uj^ to factors, andJ 
the utmost farthing of rent extorted from the poor, who, if they 
give up the land, cannot get employment in manufactures, oV 
regular employment in husbandry. The common people use it 
sort of food so very cheap, that, they can rear families, who can- 
not procure employment, and who have little more of the com- 
fcjils of life than food. Tlic Irish are light-minded— want of 
employment has made them idle— they are irritable and brave 
— nave a keen rcmenibraiice of the pak* wrongs tliey have suf- 
fered, and the present \Vrongs the}^ are suffering from Engl rind. 
The consequence of all this is, eternal riot and insurrection, a 
whole army of soldiers in time of profound peace, and general 
rebellion whenever England is busy with other enemies, or off 
her guard ! And thus‘it will be while the same causes continue 
to operate, for ages to come, — and worse and worse as the ra- 
pidly increasing population of the Catholics becomes more and 
more numerous. » ^ 

The remedies are, time and justice; and that justice con- 
sists in repealing all laws which make any distinction between 
the two religions; in placing over the government of Ireland, 
not the stupid, amiable and insignificant Noblemen who have 
too often been sent there, but men wdio feel deeply the wrongs 
of Ireland, and who have an ardent wish to heal them; 
who will take care that Catholics, when eligible, shall bo elect- 
ed; who w'ill share the patronage of Ireland proportionally 
among the two parlies, and gitc to just and liberal laws the 
same vigour of execution which has hitherto been reserved 
only for decrees of tyranny, and the enactments of oppres-v 
sion. The injustice and hardship cf supporting two churches 
must be put out of sight, if it cannot or ought not to be cured. 
t'The political economist, the moralist and the satirist, must com- 
bine to teach moderation and superintendence to the great Irish 
proprietors. Public talk and clamour may do something for 
the poor Irish, as it did for the slaves in the West IndiijjS. 
Ireland will become more quiet under such trealmcnt, and then 
more rich> more comfoftable, and more civilized ; and the hop- 


rid spectacle of folly and tyranny, which it at present exhibits, 
may in time be removed from the eyes of Europe. 

, There are two eminent Irishmen now in the Hon^ie of 
Commons, Lord Castlereagh and Mr Canning, %yl:o will sub- 
scribe to the justness of every syllable we have said upon 
this subject; ^and who have it in their power, by ni:iking 
it the condition of their remaining in office, to liberate their 
native country, and raise it to its just rank among the na- 
tions of the earth. Yet the Court buys them over, year af- 
\dr year, by the pomp and perquisites of office; and year 
after year, they come into the House of Connuons, libeling 
deeply, and describing powerfully, the injuries of five millions 
of tneir countrymen, — and continue members of a Government 
that inflicts those evils, under the pitiful delusion that it is not 
a Cabinet Question,— as if the scratching^ and quarrellings of 
Kings and Queens could alone cement politicians together in in- 
dissoluble unity, while the &te and fortune of one- third of the em- 
'pire might he complimented away from one minister to anotlier, 
without the smallest breach in their Cabinet alliance. Politi- 
cians, at least horjest politicians, should be very flexible and ac- 
commodating in little things, very rigid and inflexible in great 
1 hings. And is th is not a great thing ? Who has painted it in fin- 
er and more coiuinanding elo(|uence than Mr Canning ? Who 
has taken a more sensible and statesman-like view of our miser- 
able and cruel policy, than Lord Castlefeagh ? You would 
tliinki to hear them, that the same planet could not contain 
them and the oppressors of their country, — perhaps not tlie same 
solar system. Yet for money, claret and patronage, they lend 
their countenance, assistance and friendship, to the Ministers 
who arc the stern and inflexible enemies to the emancipation of 
Ireland ! 

Thank God that all is not profligacy and corruption in the 
history of that devoted people— and that the name of Irishman 
docs not always carry with it the idea of the oppressor or 
the oppressed — the plunderer or the plundered — the tyrant 
or the slave. Great men hallow a whole people, and lift ii]> 
all who live in their time. What Irishman docs not feel pp»ud 
that he lias lived in the days of Grattan ? who lias not turn- 
ed to film for comfort, from tlie false friends and open enemies 
of Ireland ? who did not remember him in the days of its 
burnings and wastings and murders? No Government ever 
dismayed him — the %vorld could not bribe him— he thought 
oriy of Ireland — lived for no other object — dedicated to her his 
beautiful fancy, his elegant wit, his manly courage, and all the 
^gpleiidoiir oj "his astonishing eloquence. He was so born, 


ho gifted, that poetry, forensic skUl, dtegant literattire, md all 
the highest attain medits of human genius, were within his Teach; 
but he thought the noblest occupation of a man was to smke 
other men happy and free; and in that straight line he went on 
ihr fifty years, without one side-look, without one yielding 
thought, without one motive in his heart iditch he might not 
have laid open to the view of God and man. He is gone ! — ^but 
there is net a single day of his honest of which every good 
Irishman would not be more proud^ than of the whole political 
existence of his countrymen,— the annual deserters and betray- 
ers ol* tlioir native land. 

Art. III. An Account of Eapperiments for d^emimin^ the 
Variation in the Ldmgth of the Vibrating Seconds 

at thr jmncipal Stations of the 7rigsmm^Tical Survex) of 
iWeat Bxitain. By Captain H. KATEft, F.R. S. Froni 
Phil. Transactions. London, 1819. Part III. 


Tt is not long since w^e laid before our readers a detailed ac- 
count of the experiments made by Captain Kuter, with a 
view to determine the length of a pendulum vibrating seconds 
in the latitude of London. We have now to direct their atten- 
tion to a more extended investigation of the same careful ob- 
server, by which he has ascertained the length of a Sf^conds 
Pendulum, at the principal stations of the great survey of this 
Island. - 

It may be recollected, that tliis inquiry originated in a bill 
submitted to Parliament, for the general regulation of Weights 
and Measures, and fortunately thrown out in the House of 
Lords, We saj' fortunately, — because those who most readily 
admit the expediency of adopting some uniform system, will na- 
turally be the first to reject a plan so crude and so ill calculated 
to attain tliat desirable object. One good, however, resulted 
from the discussion ; an ^dress was presented to the Crown, 
praying that instructions might be given for determining the 
length of a Seconds Pendulum in the latitude of London, as 
compared with the standard made for the House of Commons 
in 1758, known by the name of Bird’s Parliamentary Standard — 
for asccitaining the variations in the length of the Pendulum 
at the different stations, and for comparing the standard mea- 
sures with the ten*millIonth part of the (juadrant of the n&eri-f 
dian, the basis of linear measure in Fruricc. In order .to carry^ 
j;bis purpose into effect, a Committee w as appointed by the RoyaV* 

Kfiier^ Pendulums, 


Society; atid Caf^n a Member of it, was desired to 

conduct the inquiry. *I^e choice was amply justified by the 
success which attended bis ]aboiii*s in the first branch of the 
* ^operajtions j and still more decisive testimony is borne to the 
*same point, by the satisfactory manner in which he has now 
brought the tl^kto its close, attended as it was with great diffi- 
culty, and demanding utmost patience which a mind, ardent 
in the pursiiit of its object, could bestow upon the endless dcs 
tails essential to the atfainmeiit of perfect accuracy. 

If in Captain Kater the inquiry found a most able conductor, 
in the Government it met with no less efficient supporters. Every 
aid was given him which the enterprise could p^sibJy require. 
He had sloops of war at his orders, to convey his attendants and 
instruments; the use of barracks wherever they were to be found ; 
and all the minor accommodations of waggons, non-commis- 
sioned officers, gunn^s, artillery horses and tents. With an 
establishment thus liberally provided, he left London on the 
-^2-l*th of June 1818^ accompanied by Lieutenant FraJik of the 
Royal Navy, and arrived at Unst, one of the Shetland islands, 
on the 9tli of July. This was the most northern station of the 
Meridiond Arc of the Trigonometrical Survey ; and Dimnose, 
in tlie Isle of Wight, the southernmost. The Interniediiite sta- 
tions were Portsoy, lat. 57® 40',* Leith Fort, lat. 55^ 58'; Clif- 
ton, lat. 53® 27'; Arbury-hill, lat. 52® 12'; and London, lat. 
51® 3 r. The latitudes of the extreme points, Unst and l)un- 
nosf, were 60® 45', and 50® 37' rcspectively. 

As the operations for determining the length of the pendu- 
lum were the same at each station, it will only be necessary to 
enter into the detail of the experiments made at any one of 
them ; and we shall take for example the experiment made at 
Unst. But before proceeding to this abstract, \vc must express 
our regret that Captain Kater should have departed from the 
old received method of describing the various parts of his ap- 
paratus, by references with letters to the parts of the plates i^- 
prcsenling it. This is peculiarly requisite towards forming, 
speedily, a distinct idea of instruments w^bich we are not in the 
habit of seeing ; and it enables us to avoid erroneous notions, 
which a verbal description is apt to create. This defect is no 
doubt remedied in some degree by the plates annexed to Cap- 
tain Rater’s former paper in the Phil. Trans, for 1818: but 
thty are useful only as a general reference; they present a 
handsome perspective of the apparatus, while the reader would 
^prefer a more ordinary drawing, with specifick references to the 
several parts described in the text. 

Jt may be remembered that the former experiments for the 


Kater on 

latitude of London, were founded upon u i^ery ingenious apfdtr 
cation of the well known property of o^illating bodies, namely, 
that the centres of oscillation and suspension are ]*eciprocm« 
From hence it follows, that the time of oscillation is d^e same, 
whether the centre of suspension or of oscillation be taken f and,' 
conversely, if any two points of suspension can be found in a 
pendulum, such, that the time of vibration is ihe'sUnic in botli 
cases, — then one is the centre of oscillation, when the otlier is the 
centre of suspension ; and thus, from the distance between the 
two, we ascertain the true length of the pendulum. In Captain 
K/s convertible pendulum, one point of suspension being fixed, 
the other is pj^ced as near as possible to the calculated centre 
of oscillation : any inequality in the vibration when it is sus- 
pended from different points, is regulated by shifting a move- 
able weight made to slide between the two centi^C^s » und as soon 
us the oscillations in the two opposite positions are accurately 
adjusted to one another, the wcighlr is.fiiced in it$. place, and the 
pendulum is complete. 

In extending the observations made in London to the other 
stations, very little alteration was made upon the apparatus de- 
scribed in the former paper, and in our tlrirtieth volume. The 
pendulum was of the same construction, and the other parts of 
the machinery were similar, excepting the frame to which the 
pendulum, with its support, was attached. This, in all the 
latter cases, was made of cast-iron, and furnished with a back 

pierced to receive very large screws, by which it might be firm- 
ly fixed to the wall of a building. For further security against 
any lateral motion, there were brackets below, so formed as to 
spread at the bottom to a distance of three feet. Every pre- 
caution was thus taken to render the point of suspension per- 
fectly immoveable. The clock with wbicli the pendulum was 
compared, was made by Arnold, and had a gridiron ])cndulum 
for the compensation of temperature. The other instruments 
with which Captain Kater was provided, were a box chrono- 
meter by Arnold, a transit by Dolland three fcet<pnd a half 



and u repeating circlp, of one foot dlimcter, by 


On his arrival at Unst, Captain Kater was received by Mr 
Edmonstonc with an hospitality which supplied every thing 
that might be wanting in so remote a spot. The place which 
he chose for his experiments was the shell of a cottage adjoin- 
ing to Mr Edmonstone’s house: one wall of it being ancient, 
and upwards of three feet in thickness, seemed to have all the 
stability reg^uisitc for his purpose. It was the same, loo, itf 
yi^hich M. Biot had, tlic summer before, made his observations 
pendulum. Into this tliick wall, strong oak wfdgcs, a- 

I820« KiKleri^J^ 3i| 

bove a foot In length* were driven ; to these the projecting frame 
of cafit*iron was fixed by the long screws mentioned above. 
Underneath this frame were fastened to the wall by long nail $9 
' two deal planks, two inches and a half in thickness, to which 
the clock-case was screweci, at such a distance below the frame, 
as to allow the end of the brass pendulum to reach a little be- 
low the clock pendulum. The bclbinotul support was next put 
in its place on the frame; and, being properly levelled, the 
}>endulum was carefully lowered until the hnife edges rested on 
the agate planes. The stand for the telescope was then fixed 
to the floor at about eight feet and a half from the front of the 
dock, and the telescope so adjusted, tliat tlie centre of the ob- 
ject glass might be in the line joining the white disk and the ex- 
tremity of the pendulum. The diaphragm w^as finally brought 
to correspond with the edges of the pendulum ; and tlic divided 
arc for indicating the extent of the vibrations, w^as placed so, 
that its zero coincided with the extremity of the pendulum, 
r The Transit instrument was placed on a large stone laid in a 
box nearly filled with sand, and adjusted so as to be nearly in 
the meridian, this being sufficient in finding the intervals of 
time between the transits of the same star. The weather was 
unfavourable for observations during tlie first part of Captain 
Rater’s stay in Unst; and it was not till the 22d of July that he 
began to observe the transits of a few stars. In observing the 
time of the transits, the chronometer was used, and found to be 
verj convenient from beating half seconds. A comparison of 
this with the clock (applying a correction for the gain or loss cP 
the clock during the interval betw'een the observation and the 
comparison) gave the time shown by the clock at the instant of 
the transit. From observations of the transits of the sun and of 
six fixed stars, tbe rates of the clock for several intervals were 
obtained, by dividing the dillerciice betw^een the times of the 
transits of each star by the interval in days ; and subtracting 
this from 3'55".yi (the acceleration of the fixed stars in 24 
hours.) This gives the rate of the clock for a sidereal day; 
while to obtain the rate for a solar day, the gain of the clock in 
four minutes, namely, 0". 14 must be added. 

On the 23d of July, Captain Rater began to observe the co- 
incide|ices of the iw’o pendulums ; and he found, between the 
22d and 28tb, from two series of experiments, each of ten in- 
tervals, taken on each day, that the mean number of vibrations 
in 24? hours amounted to ’86090.74, the temperature being cor- 
rected for 62°, while the clock made in the same time 86450.63 
vibrations. The number of vibrations for each day of the inter- 
was deduced from the rate of the clock, gaining S0".63 
I w. « 


Katei^ m ' • ' - ^ ■ ■ 

during the observe<l interval; Consequently, for any other less- 
er interval and rate, the mean of the vibrations during such in« 
terval is taken> and to this is added the diiference between the 
corresponding rate and 50",63, w^hich corrected is positive or, 
negative, according as the rate of the clock has diminished or 
increased. Proceeding in this way, results were />btaiiied for 
seven different intervals, the greatest of which was from the 
22d to the 28th of July — the least from the 26th to the 28th* 
In four of these intervals, the rate of the clock was deduced 
from observations upon stars ; and in the other three, from ob- 
servations upon the sun. But before employing those seven re- 
sults to obtain a mean, it is necessary to attend to the errors 
which are likely to accompany each. In observations on i!he 
stars, the chief source of error will arise from the position of the 
transit instrument with respect to the meridian mark, a flat 
board fixed in tlie ground at a distimce from the transit, and so 
adjusted, that when the middle wire of the transit bisected it, 
the instrument was nearly in the meridian* This board was e- " 
rected for the convenience of more readily placing the transit 
in the same position previously to every observation ; and so 
much dej)eiKlocl on the accuracy of the position, and on the le- 
velling of the instrument’s axis, that a deviation only equal to 
the diameter of the silk- worm’s thread in the focus of the eye- 
glass, was found to occasion an error, in tlie time of transit, a- 
inoLinting to three-tenths of a second. The greater the number 
of days between the two transits, the less will this error alfect 
the daily rate of the clock ; because the wdiole amount of the 
error is divided by the number of days which compose the in- 
terval between the two trarisils. The accuracy also in n great 
measure depends on the number of stars observed. It thus ap- 
pears, tliat a correct mean will be obtained by multiplying the 
result for each interval by the product of the number of stars 
into the interval, and then dividing the sum of the final pro- 
ducts by the sum of the factors. In this way the ultimate mean 
obtained w as 86090.77 vibrations in 24> hours, by obsl^ations of 
the stars; and in like manner, by observations of the sun, con- 
sidering the transits of both limbs as equal to the transits of two 
stars, we find the vibrations amount to 86090.79. Now in the 
case of the stars, tl;^ sum of the multipliers is 50; in tfoat of 
the sun, 16; and as the accuracy of the results is in the ratio 
of those sums, that is, as 8 to 1 nearly, we are entitled to take 
the final mean equal to 86090.77 vibrations in a mean solar 
day. ♦ 

The next correction to be applied, is the alloivance for the 
height of the station above the level of the sea* This rei^ily 

18i9. K^itt^enMum. SiS 

obtained from the conaideiration that the force of gravity varies 
inversely as the squares of the distance fiom the !&rtlfs centre j 
and this force is represented by the square of the number of vi- 
^iratioxts of the ]>endulum. 'Fherefore, if we divide the height 
of the station by the radius of the hWth, and multiply the 
number of vibrations in ‘it- hours by the quotient, the correc- 
tion wiii be obtained. Now, in a valuable paper published by 
Dr Young in the Phil. Xi*a*is. for 1819, Part I., upon the den- 
sity of the Earth as aifecting the reduction of experiments on 
the pendulum, some conjectures are hazarded as to the effect 
ivhicii may be produced by the attraction of the elevated * part 
that lies heUvoen the general surface and the place of observa- 
tion ; and as to the allowance to be made for this, in reducing 
an elevated place of observation to the level of the sea, the 
meaning of vdiicli appears to be merely this, that if we make 
an observation upon the motion of a pendulum at the height of 
100 feet, for example, above the level of the sea, then, in or- 
•^r to bring our observation to the level of the sea, not only is a 
cori'cction necessary for the elevation of 100 feet, at which the 
observation was actually made, but a further correction is requir- 
ed, to compensate the attraction produced by the matter accumu- 
lated between the level of thesea and the higlier position. Piit- 
lin/ ibr the present out of vie** \hc accuracy of Dr Young’s csti- 
, mate of thc' probable amount of this equation, -ive may observe Captain Katcr seems to have mistaken the import of Dr Y.’s 
statt‘Bi'?!it, when he uses this »;orrection I’or the attraction of 
matter surrounding the elevated situation. That statement ap- 
plies only to the attraction ol the * elevated pait interposed be- 

* tween Ihc general suifaco and the place of observation, * {PhiL 
7rans. 181,9, Pf, I, p. 93), iiolhing being said of lateral attrac- 
tion caused by surrounding matter. Bin Captain Kater applies 
the correction for the error produced by hills lying round thc 
point of observation ; and says, ‘ the height of the station at 
‘ Unst was found to be 28 feet above low water; whence we 
‘ have 0. 1 2 for the correction, as deduced from the squares of 
‘ theWistanccs from the Earth’s centre; and as the station at 
‘ Unst rcas surrounded. h\f hills composed of serpentine^ I shall 
‘ take 0.'12 X i = 0.00 tor the correction to be applied in or- 
‘ der tclobtain the number of vibrations which w^ould be made 

* at the level of the sea.’ {PkiL Trarts. 1819. Pt. III. p. 354.) 

It may be said, that the smallness of the quaulity makes it im- 
material ; but in this investigation, extreme accuracy is thc on- 
Ijfobject, and no quantity, however minute, can be disregard- 
jed. But suppose Captain Kater’s application of the correction 
was accor^ng to Dr Young’s true meaning which we conceive 

"S ' f N)- 

5i4f Ktsde^v m Jp0H 

a reference to his own words hus disproved^ still we thlidc the\a«- 
mount of the correction^ as given by that author, should have 
been adopted with caution in an inquiry like the present, both 
because the method of arriving at it is somewhat too corqectiir- * 
al, and also because, admitting its general accuracy, we can 
hardly allow it to be the precise equation forCaptauiKater*scase. 

‘ . It is obvious, ’ says Dr Young, ‘ that if we were raised on a sphere 
of carlJi a mile in diameter, its attraction would be about - 5 - 3 ^ of 
that of the whole globe, and instead of a reduction of in tlie 
force of gravity, we should obtain only or three-fourths as 

niucli ; nor is it at all probable, that the attraction of any hill a mile 
in height would be so little as this, even supposing its donsity to be 
only two-thirds of the medium density of the Earth that of a hemi- 
spherical liill would be more than half as much more, and in the pro- 
])ortion of 1.586 to 1 ; arwl it may easily hf. shown, that the at- 
traction of a large tract of table land, considered as an extensive? 
£at surface a mile in thickness, would be three times as great as that 
of a sphere a mile in diameter, or about twice as great as that of such 
a sphere of the mean density of the Earth ; so that, for a plane so sr** 
tuated, the allowance for elevation would be reduced to one-half ; and 
in almost any country chosen for the experiment, it must remain less 
than three-fourths oi’llie whole correction, deduced immediately from 
the du[)iicate proportion of the distance from the Earth's centre. 
Supposing the mean density of the Earth 5.5, and that of the sur- 
iace only, the correction /or a trad af table land of a mile in thicks 

nesa, will of course be reduced to 1 — - . — ^ of the whole. ’ 

4 5.5 100 

(P/i/l. Trans. 1810, p. 93.) If then be the correction for ah ele- 
vation of one mile, on the su[)position of its being filled by a 
solid ring of eailh, we cannot perceive the grounds on which 
Ca})tain Katcr takes J, only a little l(‘.ss than for the correc- 
tion applicable to an elcvatioj! of 'JS I’eet in the actual sUite of 
the superficial inecjualities. We may have overlooked some 
step in his reasoning, or in Dr Young’s, but we feel bound to 
state our difijcnlty as it occurs. 

One olht r cejuation of error remains, and that is for the 
buoyancy of the Atmosphere. The specific gravity of the^eu- 
dulnin was taken at S. 6 l(): and it wars found to be, at the time 
of making the expei itneuts, to the specific gravity of th^j Air, as 
7.099 to J. This ratio expresses the diminution of thc/orce of 
gravity arising from the buoyancy of the atmosphere ; Tbut the 
force of gravity varies directly as the length of the pendulum, or 
inversely as the square of the number of vibrations. Hence, 
if the square of the number of vibrations in 24 hours be 
creased in the ratio of 7.099 to 1 , that is, if 6.07 be added to the 
2 )umber of vibrations, the number In vacuo in the same time will 


be obtamed. We liaverrireacly stated the mean number of vi- 
bi^ions to be 86090.77? as determined by observations of the 
coincidences of the clock and pendulum : We have, therefore, 

• 86096.84 for the number madp by the pendulum in a mean so- 
m vaems to which must he added the correction for ele- 
vation^bove the level of the sea, or o. 1 2. Captain Katcr de- 
ducts irom. this 0.06, to allow for attraction. We have f^ivea 
our reasons fo^[ holding this to be too large an allowance, and 
we should think'O.lS sufficiently near the truth, without any al- 
lowance, for so small a height as 28 ieet. According to Captain 
Kater, however, the corrected n umber of vibrations in vacuo^ 
and at the level of the sea, is 86096.90. 

On the 29th July, having finished his experiments at Unst, 
Captain K. proceed^ to Portsoy, the next station of the Sur- 
vey, where he arriyal on the 1st of August. By a process of 
jTrcciscly the same kind with the former, he a.scertainetl the 
number of vibrations there to be 86086.01 in vacuo and at the 
cl of the sea. The following Table exhibits the results of 
Tiis observations at all the stations, the experiments being the 
.same at each. They wxre concluded at the Isle of Wight on 
the 16th of May 1819. ^ 

Place of Obsen'atloii. 

« . .. 


j \'ibr.'irioiis 
Latitude. i in a mean 

j solar day. 


Lcngtii of the 
Pctxiulijui \ibiat.inp 
Seconds, in parts of hir 
G. Shuckbiugh’s scale, i 



Leith P^ort 


Arbury Hill 


Shanklin Farm - 

GO® 15' 2S".01 j 

37 10 58 .65 860KG.05 

55 58 40 .sol 86079.10' 

5.8 27 18 .12 1 86068.90 j 

52 12 .55 .32 ; 86065.05 

51 31 8 .10, 86061..52 

50 37 23 .91 1 86058.07 

89.17146 inches. ' 
.39.16159 1 

' 39.15551 1 

1 39 11600 ' 

39.11250 i 

: 39.1. 3929 1 

' 39.13611 ; 

The instrument used in determining the latitudes of tlicse 
stations, was the repealing circle of one foot diameter, made by 
Trough^n; and we cannot omit recording the close agree- 
ment wjficli appears betw^een those observations and the lati- 
tudes a* determined by Colonel Mudge with the zenith sector ^ 
in the Trigonometrical Survey. This is, in justice, due to the 
accuracy of that skilful observer; because in a paper of Don 
Sjo^ph Rodriguez, in Pliil. Tran^, for 1812 , some doubts were 
expressed upon the subject. In the measurement of an are ot 
meridian extending nearly three degrees, from Clifton in 

\ V 

Yorkslnre to Dunnc^e in the tele of a remai&ebTe elAb* 

lual}' r*;>peared, for which it was very difficult to accoont ;~tlie 
degrees, instead of increasing with the latitude, seemed, if the 
measurement could be trusted, to decrease. Thus, for latitude’ 
5i®2'64'", a degree in fathoms, as given by Colonel M.Vffge 
{Phil. Trans, 1803), was 60884? ; for lat. 52® 2' 20'^^ it was (^820 ; 
and for lat. 52® 50' 30" it was 60766. Hence we should be led 
to suppose that the Earth, instead of being flatterfed at die Poles, 
is more elevated there tlian at the Equator, contrary to the re- 
ceived notions of its 6giire. The apparent Variance between 
these results and the results obtained by the National Institute, 
led Don J. Rodriguez to examine the matter, in order to re- 
concile the difference and to detect the error which be con- 
cluded must exist in the English obserwAions; and, without 
adverting more particularly to bis measiirem(^nt$ and calcula- 
tions, wre may state tliat he ascribes the ap]>carance of progres- 
sive augmentation in the degrees, to error in Colonel Mud|:.e’s 
observ^ latitudes. {Phil, Trans. for.|$l2, p. 336.) Bearing thw-., 
in mind. Captain Kater prepared to as^rtain the latitudts at 
the stations in question with all the exactness possible. The 
corrections for^rcccssion, Ike. were tlicse used at Greenwich Ob- 
servatory ; and the mean polar distance of the Pole Star, was 
taken from the latest observations of the Astronomer Royal. 
The mean of five series of observations, made between the 3d 
and 12th of October, gave the latitude of Clifton Beacon 63® 
27'29".85). The observed arc between Green vrich and Cjiftoii 
Beacon, as given by Colonel Mudge, was 1® 58' 5 1 ".59. Add 
this to the latitude of Greenwich, 51® 28' 38".01, and we have for 
the latitude of Clifton Beacon, 53® 27' 29".6, differing only by 
0".29 in defect from that obtained by the repeating circle. A- 
gain, at Arbury Hill, the mean of three series of observations, 
made on the 18tb, 22d, and 2Gth of October, gave the latitude 
equal to 52® IS' 25''.72. The observed arc between Greenwich 
and Arbury Hill was 0® 4? 4?' 48". 19, which therefore gives 52 
13'26".^20 for the latitude by the Trigonometrical Survey; dif- 
fering only 0".48 iri^excess from the latitude obtained by the 
repeating circle. Lastly, the latitude of Dunnose wrs found 
by the repeating circle to l>e 50® 37' 5".27, and by tl^ zenith 
sector, 50®37'6".61; the difference being 1".34 in exj^ss. It 
is very probable that this difference, small as it is, arose from 
C.^ptain Kater being compelled, by the nature of the grounci, to 
take a station at some aistance from that used in the Survey. 
}ie chose Shanklin Farm instead of Dunnose ; and the grouifd* 
w^as so unfavourable for measuring a base, that there was gi*eat ^ 
^difficulty in connecting the two points. We are the^.better eu- 
•r y f ^ 

titled to ascri]be tihe dleei^aiic^ in this case to tlie circumstance 
now mention ^9 because the difierence was so very minute in 
the other stitions where, the points of observation coincided. 

’ these latitudes, then, are as correct as observed latitudes 
ca^^be, we may safely assume ; but it is possible that they may 
differyVora tlnf tnur latitudes of the several stations. If this dif- 
ference can be accounted for, the anomaly above alluded to will 
satisfactorilV explained. 

The diminutmn of the force of gravitation from the Poles to 
the Eauator, mw be found by the difference of the lengths of 
pendulums oscillating in equal times at the Poles and at the £- 
c|uator ; or by tii^ ratio of the squares of the number of vibra- 
tions in 24 hours, ^bserved in different latitudes, with the same 
pendulum. The diminution indicated by the decrease observed 
^o take place in tfaenumbw of vibrations between any two given 
latitudes, must be the same, from whatever pordons of the me- 
i^ian it is computed, unless it be affected by some irregular 
♦^traction. But it is found from observations at Uiist, and 
each of the other stations in succession, that the diminution de- 
duced from the arc between Unst and Portsoy, is less than that 
obtained from the arc between Unst and Leith; the number 
expressing the diminution being .0053(>39 in the former case, 
and ,005480 in the latter. When Unst and Clifton are the two 

latitudes, the diminution is .0056340 ; Unst and Arbury Hill 
give .0054282, denoting an increase of gravitation ; Unst and 
Myidoii give .00^5510 ; and a still further decrease ap)>ears 
from comparing the observations at Unst and Dunnose, the 
diminution thus obtained being .0055262* Again, Portsoy and 
Dunnose give .0055920, being a greater diminution than the 
last mentioned. Clifton and Dunnose make it only .0052616, 
which is smaller ; while Arbury Hill and Dunnose give .0060212, 
which is greater than any of the preceding. 

From uiese statements we gather, that in advancing towards the 
Equator, the decrease of gravity is greater than it ought to be by 
the theory ; and also, that at some of the stations, the action of a 
disturbing force, proceeding probably from the greater density of 
the iiMterials in the neighbourhood, has proiluted an irregulari- 
ty in tie diminution of gravity* The sudden increase perceptible 
at A»ur}' Hill deserves particular attention. It should also be 
observed, tliat the action of this disturbing force does not ex- 
far ; for, by the experiments at London and Dunnose^ 
me number expressing diminution is reduced to .0052^ 3 7* We 
^taiay thence infer, that there exists very near Arbury Hill a 
mass of matter of considerable density. Captain Kater con- 
jectureii^at tliis mass is Mount Sorrel, which consisth of gra- 


Tiite ; and other rocks of primitive formation are situate irt ixd 
vicinity. l$e this as it may, the disturbance mu|t ainse frdih 
some such masses; and they must be situated to the north of . 
Arbury Hill, because we have seen that, at a very small dista^l^ 
in a southerly direction, the force ceases to act. Anotljiff ef- 
fect of these disturbing forces will be to attract the pliiifb-line 
northward : in which case the obsej'ved latitude mil be less than 
the tnie ; consequently the length of the degre^^omputed from 
the arc between Arbury Hill and Dunnose will exceed, and 
that deduced from the arc between Clifton md Arbury Hill, 
will fall short of the true latitudes. This difference between the 
real and apparent latitudes, sufficiently accouWts for the varianco 
wliich seemed to exist between the lei^hs tlie degrees and 
the latitudes, in the statements. of the Trig<ponietrical Survey. 

We liave extended this account of Captain Kater’s paper so 
far,’ that we have left no room for any additional remarks. Tb • 
Appendix to his Report contains all the observations from wliie^li 
the results vrore derived which we have now analyzed. These 
observations arc arranged in distinct Tables, according to the 
different places of observation. To “persons who maybe en- 
gaged in similar inquiries, they cannot fail to be of the greatest 
use ; while they are the best vouchers of that extreme accuracy 
which gives to the author’s own conclusions the whole value 
that belongs to such investigations. This is not to be attained, , 
indeed, without the greatest labour and perseverance : But we ' 
should be infinitely mistaken in supposing that very gi’eat^??/^ 
genuity is not aUo re(]!iired, both in planning the operations, 
and conducting their details. 

Art. IV. Poems, By Bervaru Barton. 8vo. pp. 280. 

London, 1 820. 

^ ^HoroH there is mucli that is pleasing in this little volume, 
the thing that has pleased us most about it, is to le?h*a 
that it is the work of a Quaker; — and that, not merely (^causc 
a Quaker poet is a natural curiosity, but because it is gr^ifying 
to find that the most tolerant and philanthropic and blf|heless 
of all our sectaries, are beginning to recommend themselves by 
the graces of elegant literature, and to think it lawful to be 
tinguished for their successful cultivation of letters as well „ 
^Science. The interdiction of all light and frivolous amuse* 
merits, and of all those pastimes which merely dissipate the 
mind, and distract the affections, ought never to have Ixfen con- 

I / 


etrued as extending pursuit wliich not only implies the 

most vigorous exercise of the intellectuni faculties, but may be 
truly defined to be the art of recommending moral truth, and 
w-5;yjking virtue attractive. Poetry has been commonly suppos- 
'‘ cuj^deed, to aim more at the gratification than the instruction 
of its ^rotaries, and to have for its end rather delight than im- 
provertifent ; but it has not, we think, been snfHcicntly consider- 
ed, that its po\W of delighting is founded chiefly (^n its moral 
energies, aim tlKt| the liighest interest it excites Inis always rested 
on the ropresentalion of n(/ble seutimenrs and amiable alibc- 
lions, or on determng pictiiies of the agonies arising from iin- 
govbrned passions.! The gifts of imagination may no doubt be 
abused and niisapp^d; like other gifts ; but their legitimate ap- 
plication is not, for^is, less laudable or blameless: — and much 
of the finest poetry in* our language may utKjuestionably be read 
the most rigid moralist, not only with safety, but advantage, 

J To a Quaker poet, it is perhaps true that the principles or pre- 
ices of his sect would oppose sonic restraints, from which other 
adventurers are free ; and that the whole range of Parnassus could 
not be considered as quite open to his excursions — some of its 
loftiest, as well as some of its gayest recesses, being interdicted 
to his muse. The sober-mindedness vvJiich it is the great dis- 
tinction and aim of the Society to inculcate and mainlain, w ill 
scarcely permit him to deal very fretdy vvitli the stronger pas- 
Vtflis: and the mere play of lively and sportive imagination, 
^tl'^wyhole department of wdtty and comic inventitm, would, we 
suspect, be looked upon as erjiially hetei odox and suspicious. 
Tlicy have no reason, how ever, to complain of the scantiness of 
what remains at their disposal all the solemnity, w’arnuli, 
and sublimity of devotion — all the W’eight and sanctity of nm- 
raU precept — all that is tender in sorrow — all that is gentle 
in affection — all that is elegant and touching in description, 
is as open lo them as to poets of any other persuasion; aiul 
may certainly afford scope for the most varied as well as the 
most exalted Song. Wlien employeil upon such themes, and 
^'bs4aiu[»crated to such objects, it is impossible, we should think, 
for tbc^tniost austere sectary, to consider poetry as a vain or 
unprofi^ljk occupation, or to deem amiss of an attempt lo 
recomn^nd the purest sentiments, and enforce tlie noblest prac- 
^ticc, l^all the beauty of diction, and all the attractions of style, 
'imiha^ociety was for a good while confined to the low’er das— 
m when it first became numerous and respectable, the 

^i)woIting corruptions of poetry which took place after the llc- 
yjstdratioii, dS^rded but too good an apolog)' for the prejudices 
rj^'hich we^ conceived against it ; and as the Quakers are pc- 


QjKfier Poetry. 


ciiliarly tenacious of all th^ maxims jbave been handed 
down from the patriarchal times of their institution, it is easy 
to understand how this prejudice should have outlived the causes 
that produced it. It should not however be forgotten, that- 
W. Penn amused himself with verses, and that Elwoc5(L*4i*fe 
Quaker is remembered as the friend and aJimiir of jV^on, 
and the man to whose suggestion the world is ii|!iebte<Mor the 
Paradise Regained. In later times, we onljyremcmbcr Mr 
Scott of Airriwcll as a poetical writer of the Society. 

The volume before us has all the purity, tlm piety and g<?n- 
tlcness, of the Sect to which its author belong — with something 
too much perhaps of their sobriety. Thestpc is rather diffuse 
and wordy, though generally graceful, flowmg, and easy ; and 
though it cannot be said to contain many ^ight thoughts or o- 
riginal images, it is recommended throughout by a truth of 
feeling and an unstudied earnestness of manner, that wins hot! 
upon the heart and the attention. In these qualities, as welh 
in the copiousness of tlie diction and the facility of the versSlg-^ 
cation, it frequently reminds us of the smaller pieces of Cow- 
per, — the author, like that eminent and most amiable writer, 
never disdaining ordinary words and sentiments when they come 
in his way, and combining, with his most solemn and contem- 
plative strains, a certain air of homeliness and simplicity, which 
seems to show that the matter was more in his thoughts than the 
manner, and that the glory of fine writing was less consider^H]! - 
than the clear and complete expression of the sentiments, 
the sake of which alone he was induced to become a writfr. — 
Though the volume contains sixty or seventy different pieces, 
and almost every variety of versification, there is something of 
unifoniiity in the strain and tenor of the poetry. There is no 
story, and of course no incident, nor any characters shown in 
action. The staple of the whole is description and meditation- 
description of quiet, liome scenery, sweetly and feelingly wrought 
out — and meditation oversliaded with tenderness, and exalted by 
devotion — but all terminating in soothing and even cheerful views 
of the condition and prospects of mortality. The book^^i’*'. 
short, is evidently the work of a man of a fine and ci^vaied, 
rather than of a bold and original mind-— of a man who prefers 
following out the suggestions of bis own mild and contmplative 
spirit, to counterfeiting the raptures of more vehemenl^atures, 
and thinks it bettet to work up the genuine though less s^^d^ 
materials of his actaal experience and observation, than t^Js- . 
tract himself and his readers with more ambitious and less 
nageable imaginations. His thoughts and rcfiecu^/lis, acco^-' 
ihj^y, have not only the merit of truth and consist^^ but heai^^ 


the distinet impte^l iMf^^diihdaal character— and of a cfaaractef ' 
with which no reader can thus become acquainted without 
loving and Wishing tc share in its virtues. 

We opeti tlie volume almost at random for a few specimens* 
IrlMrst piece consists of * Verses written in a Quaker Burial** 

groun^' And contains, among other things, this justification 
of thefl^ cfisallwance of sepulchral monuments. 

* Could we wceive Death was indeed the close 
Of our exntence, Nature might demand 
lliat, where me reliques of our friends repose, 

Some recor^to their memory should stand. 

To keep them Inforgotten in the land : — 

Then, then ilUieed, um, tomb, or marble bust. 

By sculptor’s armluhorately plann’d, 

Would seem a debt due to their mouldering dust, 

Though time would soon efface the perishable trust. 

\ But hoping, and believing ; yea, through Faith, 

^ Knowing, ^because His word hSs told us so. 

That Christ, our Captain, triumph’d over Death, 

And is the tint fi*^ of the dead below 
That he has trod for man this path of woe. 

Dying— to rise again !— we would not grace 
Death’s transitory spell with trophied show ; 

As if that ** shadowy vale ” supply’d no trace 
^o prove the grave is not our final dwelling-place. ’ 

„ Then, be our burial-grounds, as should become 
A simple, but a not unfeeling race : 

Let tbe*m appear, to outward semblance, dumb 
As best befits the quiet dwelling-place 
Appointed for tlie prisoners of Grace, 

Who wait the promise by the Gospel given,— 

When the last trump shall sound,-— the trembling base 
Of tombs, of temples, pyramids be riven, 

And all the dead arise before the hosts of Heaven ! 

Oh ! in that awful hour, of what avail 
Unto the spiritual body ” will be found 
I costliest canopy, or proudest tale 
]^orded on it ? — ^what avail the bound 
ef ij&ly, or unconsecrated ground ? 

\ freely will the unencumber’d sod 
left asunder at that trumpet^s sound, 

Royalty’s magnificent abode : 
re its inmate rise, and stand before his 6on. * pp. 2—8* 

ving ciftract fi om Verses on the Death of a Youth^lke, will remind the admirers of Cowper of som0 
r that aothor’l^i^allcr pieces, 
voju XX 2 S^« 68. Z 

^ We had hopes it viw to 

(Then how shall be'flilte?) 

That those bright buds of genius would flourish, 
And burst into blossoms and fruit. 

But our hopes and our prospects are shaded, 

For the plant which inspir’d them hath shed 
Its foliage, all green and unfaded. 

Ere the beauty of spring^-time hath fle 
Like foam on the crest of the billow, 

Which sparkles, and sinks from th^ ^ht ; 

Like leaf of the wind^shaken willow, 

7'hough transiently, beauteously brj^ht 
Like dew-drops, exhal’d as they 

Like perfume, which dies soon a&^ed ; 

Like melody, hush’d while we listef 
Is Memory’s dream of the dead. * p. 70. 

The following, inscribed ‘ To the Memory of Mary Fletcl^^/ 
are nearly of the same character. ^ ^ 

< Enthusiast, fanatic, and fool, 

Many who read thy life will style thee ; 
And others, more sedate and cool, 

Will pity, who dare not revile dice. 

For me, 1 feel, on laying down 

Tile volume, neither power nor will 
To ape the critic’s frigid frown : 

To flatter thee were idler still. 

While /ivmg, praise of man to thee 

Was nothing : o’er thy mouldering earth, 
Its empty echo now would be 

But mockery of thy Christian worth ! 

Yet there are those, with whom the test 
Of truth is not the Gospel creed ; 

To whom thy life will be a jest, 

Thy path — a parable indeed ! 

And these, perchance, to show their wit, 

Will heap thy name witli obloquy ; 

And o’er thy hallow’d pages sit, 

Drest up in brief authority. ” 

To thee it matters not ; but those 
Who honour and revere thy name, 

May be allow’d to interpose, 

And vindicate thy weil-eam’d fame. 

Not for thy sake alone, but tlieirs ^ ^ ^ \ 

Who tr^ the path which thou bast tirodf pp. 76-7|Jf 

And the seirii be traced in the following lines to 

Bonaparte in his Mtodl\|irison. 

* Far from the battle*s shock. 

Fate hath fast bound thee ; 

Chain'd to the rugged rock, 

Waves warring round thee. 

Inltead of. the trumpet’s sound, 

-birds are shrieking ; 

Hoa\e on thy rampart’s bound, ' 
aws are breafeng. 

For eloigns unfurling, 

S beams in brightness ; 
i wares curling, 
w-wreaths in whiteness, 
ints mock thee 
With dreams of dominion ; 

But rude tempests rock thee. 

And ruffle thy pinion.* pp. 122, 12^. 

This stanza shows, that the author^s dislike to tombstones is 
not altogether insuperable. 

^ Onward the ejueeri of night advances i slow * 

Through fleecy clouds with majesty she wlieels : 

Yon tower’s indented outline, tombstones low, 

And mossy grey, her silver light reveals : 

*'• Now quivering through the lime-trees’ foliage steals ; 

And now each humble, narrow, nameless bed, 

Whose grassy hillock not in vain appeals 
To eyes that pass by epitaphs unread, 

Rise to the view. How still the dwelling of the dead ! * p. 88 

And the same image is brought still more prominently for- 
Tvard in the following. 

‘ How lonely and lovely their resting place seem’d ! 

An enclosure which care could not enter ; 

And how sweetly the grey lights of evening gleam’d, 

On the solitary tomb in its ceni{;re ! 

n at morn, or at eve, I have wander’d near, 
nd in various lights have View’d it, 
what differing forms, unto friendship dear, 
IS the magic of fancy endued it ! 

Ketimes it has seem’d like a lonely sail, 

A white spot on the emerald billow ; 
aetimes like a lamb, in a low grassy vale, , 
I’d in peace on its verdant pillow. 

But noYkage of gloom, or of care, or strife, 
Has it given birth to one minute ; 

i ir Z2 

For iainented in deaths ' 

Was he, who now sldnd^fit.’^thm it. 

He was one who in youth on the stormy seas 
Was a far and a fearless ranger ; 

Who, borne on the biilowt and blown by the breeze, 

Counted lightly of death or of danger. 

Yet in this rude school had his heart still f 

All the fireshness of gentlest feeHng ; / 

Nor in woman’s warm eye has a tear evear sleptf 

More of softness and kindness revealing. * ^p. 2S0, 231. 

The following is in a more gay and di^rsive vein; and 
affords a pleasing view of the literaiy which are now 

pcrniitteil to those self-denying sectarii^. 

‘ To be by taste’s and fashion’s laws J: 

The favourite of this fickle day ; 

To win the drawing«room*s applause, . ' 

To strike, to startle, to disj^ay/ 

And give effect, would seejn the ahn 
Of most who b^r the Poet’s name. 

For this, one idol of the hour, 

Brilliant £|^d sparkling as the beams 
Of the glad sun, culls every flower, ‘ ‘ * 

And scatters round dews, gems, and stfeams,. 

Until the wearied, aching sight, 

Is blasted with excess of light. '* 

Another leads his readers on 

With scenery, narrative, and tales 
Of legends wild, and buttles won — 
or craggy rocks, and verdant vales ; 

Till, always on amazement’s brink, 

We find we have no ti^nc to think. 

And last, not least, a master-mind, 

Around whose proud and haughty brow, 

Had lie but chosen, might have twin’d 
'J’hc muses’ brightest, greenest bough. 

Who, would he his own victor be, 

Might seize on immortality. 

He too, forsooth, Mrith morbid vein, 

Must fling a glorious fame away ; 

Instruction and delight disdain, 

^\nd make us own, yet loathe his sway: 

From Helicon he might have quaff’d, 

Yet turn’d to Acheron’s deadly draught. 

O shame and glory of our age ! 

With talents such as scarcely met 
In bard before : thy magic page 
Who can peruse without regret 



Or think, with ImoU, unpitying mien. 

Of what thou arl» mad mights have been ? * pp, 107-109. 

What follows has rather more of the ardour and teiiderness 
^ l oye, than we had supposed tolerated in the Society of 

^ not forget how with thfc I had paced 

On the snore 1 now trod, and how pleasant it seem'd ; 

How my eyXthen soi^ht thine, and how gladly it traced 
Every glance of auction which mildly it beam'd. 

The beginning^d end of our loves were before me ; 

And both toach’d a chord of the tendcrest tone ; 

For thy sjPiRtri then near, shed its influence o'er me. 

And told me lhat still thou wen truly my own. 

yes, I thought athhe moment, (how dear was the thought !) 

That there still was a union which death could not break ; 

And if with some sorrow the feeling was fraught, 

Yet even that sorrow was sweet for sake. 

Thus musing on thee, every object around 

Seem’d to borrow thy sweetness to make itself dear ; 

Each murmuring wave reach'd the shore with a sound 
As soft as the tone of voice to my ear. 

The lights and the shades on the surface of ocean. 

Seem'd to give back the glimpses of feeling and grace, 

% Which once so expressively told each emotion 

^ Of thy innocent heart as I gaz'd on thy face. 

And, when I look'd up to the beautiful sky, 

So cloudless and calm ; oh ! it harmoniz'd well 

With the gentle expression which spoke in that eye, 

Ere tlie curtain of death on its loveliness fell ! ' pp. 176-7. 

The following stanzas on the Sea appear to us at once simple 
and powerful. 

* Oh ! 1 shall not forget, until memory depart. 

When first 1 belield it, tlie glow of my heart ; 

The wonder, the awe, the delight that stole o'er me, 

“^en its bdiawy boundlessness open’d before me ! 

stood on its margin, or roam’d on its strand, 

! ;lt new ideas within me expand, 
glory and grandeur, unknown till that hour, 

’ my bpirit was mute in the presence of Power ! 

►dtn^e surf-beaten sands thnt encircl’d it ropnd, 

Iirt^nhillow'b retreat and the bieakcr's rebound, 

In its^|ntc-diifted foam, and i dark-heaving green, 

^ach mob^ I gaz’d son fre } beauty was seen. 

And thus, while I 

And survey’d its vast jturfai^Mt^d hiwi^‘^ .' /; 

I seem'd wrapt in a dream of Voxnaptic ddight! 

And haunted by majesty, glory, and might ! * pp. 24*2-$. 

These specimens, we bel